


Under The Pale Moon

by Monalisa196



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Awesome Clarke Griffin is Awesome, Entirely one-sided Lexamy, F/F, Hint Bellamy has a crush, Horrorish, InaWoods, Inner Nerd Bellamy, Nerd Lexa, Some Crack, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-10-20 10:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monalisa196/pseuds/Monalisa196
Summary: I'm terrible with summaries. This is what comes out when you're Clexa obsessed and spend way too much time on 4chan/x/ reading 'InaWoods' green text *turns to boss* "I promise I'm actually working."Hope you hate it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic or even story in years (damn you writer's block!). It's multi-chapter, but it's going to be pretty short, depending on how I decide to ultimately divide the chapters as I post them.  
> I'm working on this on my lonesome so all the errors are mine...except, maybe whatever the Beautiful-Blobfish (baby sister) proofreads, which will only be whatever chapters won't prevent me from looking her in the eye...there's only so much trauma I can submit my sister to.  
> Fair warning: this is meant to be a Clexa horror fic, however, I'm not intending on making it too graphic in the violence department...the smut, well thats an entirely different story.
> 
> Hope you hate it!

It was Tuesday. The sun was shining, birds were choking on the thick LA smog. Cars incessantly honking, motorists and pedestrians rushing and yelling alike, all in a well choreographed industrial symphony and dance. And I was stuck daydreaming once again, forehead tightly sealed to the window, hours spent staring out of my tiny office cubicle, attempting to sell overpriced car insurance to unsuspecting motorists at (drops voice two octaves) Allstate. 

Though, to the untrained eye, I seemed a prisoner to mundane routine, I was fairly content with my uneventful existence. I went about my day unnoticed, never was the cause for waves to be made. That's not to say that my life was 'boring'...by _my_ own standards, just uneventful...by the standards of _others_. I could even be considered moderately attractive, and of above average intelligence. Personality. That's where my problem lay. I had been told time and time again that I had the personality of a 2x2 plywood board. 

This glamorous wasteland of a city had been my home for a little over two years and I had made all of one friend. I, however, was very OK with this. 

I was happy.

I was content.

I was miserable. 

It was Tuesday. 

It was a Tuesday. Nothing ever happens on Tuesday. It doesn't hold that sense of doom that Monday does. It's not that mid-week hump (is that why they call it hump day, or is it because it's a weekly, worldwide hump-ritual-day to which I was not invited?). It's not Friday-eve and it definitely does not carry that festive Fri-yay vibe. It's Tuesday, plain, boring, static, lulled. Just like my everyday existence. So maybe it was actually fitting. 

Splat! 

"Fuuuucking score!"

Startled by the commotion, I look down to see a paper-ball floating in my, now cold, coffee. Coffee splattered everywhere on my desk, staining a few (unimportant?) documents. And my newly pressed, beige blouse, streaked all over like a Jackson Pollock. A caffeinated Jackson Pollock.  
Cafeiiiiiine. 

"What. The. Fuck. Bell," I squeak, staring from behind my thick-rimmed glasses in wide eyed bewilderment at my tall, best (and only) friend, Bellamy. 

Bellamy.

Ah, Bellamy.

Bellamy, is by most's standards, 'dreamy,' if your into that sort of thing. Chiseled jaw, dark floppy-wavy locks, cocky-mischievous smirk, twinkling dark eyes, muscular physique...and personality. 

Ah Bellamy, the life of the party that had every girl in L.A. County swooning. 

Bellamy, whom was a total dorky nerd behind closed doors.

I came to know the intimacies of Bellamy through a Craigslist ad looking for a "hot-chick" roommate.  


Newly arrived to this city, I had been living out of a motel for the better part of a week. Had spent the better part of those days looking for an apartment, spare room, cardboard box, anything! Even the bums in this city seemed to have a permanent spot they called home...on some empty lot, or spot on the Fashion-District sidewalk. Finally, office hot-shot (Bellamy), found me, office newbie, perusing through Craigslist roommate ads, when I came across his. 

Ever an enemy of personal space or privacy, he halted my scrolling with a heavy-hand on my, currently scrolling one, leaning down and resting his chin on my shoulder. Had I been one of these aforementioned swooning girls, I might have found it very romantic, might have even spent sleepless nights reliving the spark that may have been felt the moment our hands made contact. Alas, I am but a poor nerdy-gay; he, of course did not know this at the time. So all I really felt was discomfort and anxiety at his close proximity, he of course, mistook that for "flustered-attraction."

Eventually I did move into the spare room in his apartment, mainly because rent was on the "you won't have to sell your soul" side, I preferred saving the soul selling for other more important things, such as: an Orion 8974 SkyQuest XT10 Plus telescope...my soul was almost worthy enough to purchase one by now. 

Bellamy's throaty, billowy laugh echoes throughout the office. Every head (only 5 'cause lets face it: this is L.A., yes, but even here, this is as big as a car insurance office gets) turns to stare. Cue spike of temperature and the nice shade of burgundy spreading like the accusations of the Boston children's that sparked the Salem Witch Trials through my delicate and nerdy features. 

"Oh fuck," pauses to laugh, "I'm so fucking sorry!" Laughs some more. 

By this time I'm glaring daggers in his direction, sporting my famous "commander" scowl, scaring off the rest of the office populace from their snickering and consequently returning to blankly stare at their computers. 

Finally his laughter dies down to a slight chuckle. 

"Shit Woods, I'm so sorry," grin still in place.  
"But like, I've actually been trying to get your attention for the past like (ah, the infamous California "like") , 20 minutes."

"Well, you have my attention now," I reply, trying to school my features back to neutral nonchalance and keeping my voice low and  
steady. 

"Well it's just..." left hand rising to nervously rub the back of his neck, "it's your birthday, ya' nerd." 

The level of fondness in his voice, and the tiny, lopsided, shy smile on his face had me internally going, 'awwwww.' He really is an adorable guy, even I can see that. 

With that, he awkwardly strides over to my cubicle, bends down (at the waist, and not at the knees, because safety is not his strong suit. ) and envelopes me in an awkward bro hug, complete with awkward back-patting, before stiffly pulling away. 

"Happy birthday, Woods," he whispers..and does he really look teary eyed? 

"Umm...yeah...thank you?"

There's a look that flashes across his eyes as they linger just a little too long on mine, but it's gone too quickly for me to decipher. He clears his throat, not so subtly. 

"Uh...yeah...I um," he stutters with evident fluster. 

Finally composing himself, and flashing that million dollar smile, "You. Are-going-home early."

"Wha...why? Did I do something wrong? I swear it's so dead, Bell!" I reply, eyes wide in my boredom induced trauma , "so dead..." I finish in a whisper.

"It's your birthday, Woods. Go home, take off your pants," swallows hard, "burn your cute little bra."

I glare.

"Throw on that big t-shirt you love, you know, the one with the little kitty, like, wearing Princess Leia buns made out of soft yarn?" He coos. 

My jaw drops.

I turn fifty shades of red. 

"Fire up that lap-top, get yourself cozy on that big, soft bed of yours...and diddle your skittle to images of that telescope you're so wet for," he finishes off with a dashing grin. 

I had to scrape my jaw off the floor, I'm sure I no longer have a working mandible. 

"Oh. My. God. What the fuck, Bell!" I squeak again, nervously looking around. Thankfully everyone had gone back to their natural brain-dead state.

"That was one time! And that's not even what I was looking at, I just panicked when you bust down my door - and by the way, why the duck do you never knock? - I was actually looking at something else, the telescope window was under the one I was using for ...errm inspiration," ramble off. 

Bellamy scrunches his nose and delicately brings his hand up to his chest.

"Did you just have a human-autocorrect?" 

"You mean a 'real life' autocorrect? Umm, Yeah. I guess...the writer's just too lazy to go back and correct it, so we're just rolling with it."

"Ok...cool."

"It's your birthday, Woods. Go home," he tells me sweetly, bending to push my glasses back up my nose. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why does traffic in L.A. always feel like peak-hour traffic anywhere else? 

More importantly, why did I choose to drive and decline Bellamy's carpooling offer? 

Coffee.

Ah yes, coffee. 

Coffeeeeeee.

I hadn't had my first batch of coffee (yes, first batch) when he burst through my door like a stampeding wild beast, attempting to ask if we were carpooling today through a mouthful of off-brand coco-puffs, and a mouthful of fist he was attempting to fully shove into his mouth, a fist which was also overflowing with more of the sugary breakfast-not-so-breakfast treat. He's such a dream. 

I, of course, politely declined his offer from the depths of Morpheus' arms currently costumed as my bed, where I had my face buried into a fluffy pillow, untamed wavy-locks splayed across said pillow and conveniently smothering my 'light' snores.' The rest of my lithe body hidden by shiny white, and perpetually clean, covers. I answered by means of a lonely arm raised out of said covers, hand shaped into a majestic, though somewhat sloppily formed bird. 

And so my terrible matinal decisions have brought me to this point. What should have been a fifteen minute drive to our shared apartment, had turned into a full hour drive: 

Forty minutes were spent maneuvering through the car-graveyard that is Pico Blvd. and its offshoots, to the melodious sounds of profanities loudly spewed to the beat of blaring horns, and screeching breaks. While attempting to not, slowly, so very slowly, slam into the throngs of jaywalking pedestrians...and not satisfying my desire to appease my road-raging demon by slowly dragging their bodies with my vehicle. If ever we are thrown into a zombie apocalypse, I'm sure no one would actually notice, what with the overflowing kale/cocaine inhaling-thin-chic L.A. populace moseying around trying to catch their big break. 

Another twenty minutes were spent on a shady sidewalk attempting to explain to the hot-dog vendor-lady, selling L.A. style bacon wrapped hot-dogs out of a makeshift grill made out of a shopping cart, in my bad Spanish, that yes, I do want my bacon wrapped hot-dog(s) loaded. And yes, I do in fact, want them drenched in Tapatio hot sauce. No, I will not die, I can totally handle it. Mamma didn't raise no weakling. I fell in love with these hot-dogs during my first week living in this city, because the two-dollar loaded, bacon-wrapped monstrosities seemed like a totally nutritious meal at the time...three meals a day. 

Finally, I found myself standing before the apartment door trying to figure out how to actually open it: a hot-dog held in each hand (because two cannot be held in one, trust me, I've tried), and fancy briefcase in my mouth, holding absolutely no important work files, but definitely holding a novel on lesbian erotica and a poetry anthology within its confines...and other little knick-knacks (read:old receipts, candy wrappers, etc.). The only reason for carrying such fancy item was because it made me look 'professional.' 

A solution to my dilemma was finally found via the act of dropping my fancy briefcase and scarfing down a hot-dog...it was amazing and totally worth it, fact proven by the filthy moan escaping my mouth upon tasting my spicy, bacony friend. 

I bent down to fish my keys out of the bottomless depths of my briefcase. After a few minutes, I finally retrieved them from the alternate reality to where they had crossed, shoved the briefcase back in my mouth, turned the key in the doorknob (after having jiggled and pushed at it in just the right way) and 'gently' kicked the door open. 

People say that when you die, you experience an all consuming blinding white-light enveloping you and everything around. I've must've had a stressed induced heart attack while sitting in traffic. I've never been a religious woman, but I'm pretty sure I'm currently witnessing the Glory of God sitting in the middle of my living-room in the form of an Orion 8974 SkyQuest XT10 telescope, the shock causing me to drop my briefcase (but not my remaining hot-dog) as I stood there, frozen, mouth agape. God truly works in mysterious ways. 

I quickly shoved the remaining hot-dog down my throat, breaking myself out of my daze and because unholy hands may not touch 'The Holy One,' I decided to walk (read: run) over to the kitchen sink and thoroughly wash my hands before even admiring/worshiping the telescope with said appendages. 

Once the cleansing of my sins was complete, I quickly found myself standing before Mr. ATLAST Jr., or more like, hovering over it. 

It felt like I'd been standing there for hours. As much as I wanted to touch, I just couldn't bring myself to it. I had no idea how to even start, where, where to touch first...but mainly, I was concerned with how and why it was in the living room of this here, humble apartment. 

At first I assumed it had been delivered here by accident, but then, why would the delivery guy, or girl set it up? That'd be such an invasion of privacy. And how could they have even gotten in? Then I thought of it belonging to Bellamy, after all, he's as much of a nerd as I am, and has had a significantly bigger income than me, ever since he was promoted to branch-manager. But then again, he would have mentioned it if he was planing on purchasing only , the one thing I had been lusting over ever since I first read the article/advertisement for it in "Popular Mechanics." Unless, of course, he didn't want me too...

Epiphany. 

Mother. Fucking. Epiphany. 

Of course. 

It's my birthday...

Goddamn-mother-fucking-son-of-a-bitch! 

This is mine!

I was suddenly possessed by excitement, my body completely taking over. I didn't know whether to sit, stand, touch it, or hug it. So here I stood, body trapped in this awkward, jerky dance. Finally, with tears in my eyes, I bent over slightly to gently hug the top of the telescope, rest of my body still jerking around, and if a few noises resembling light moans and whimpers escaped my lips, well who could really blame me? 

"Ohmahgahd! What the actual fuck!" 

I freeze. Body ceasing its un-graceful dance.  
Slowly I turn my head over to the front door where Bellamy stood, jaw unhinged, big, heavy hand covering his eyes. And I, stood, there, motionless, brain unable to communicate with the rest of my body; though one can argue that my neurons actually began to error the moment I opened the front door; Bellamy likes to think it actually began the moment of my birth. 

"I'm just," hand still covering his eyes as he attempts to slowly make his way into the apartment and to his room, "I'm just..I'm gonna leave you two to finish what...errrm...you were doing...Sounds like you were almost finished...nice hip rotation by the way. It's all in the hip rotation, right?" he bumps into the couch and falls face first onto it with a, not so masculine, yelp. And that throws me back into the land of the living. 

Eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

"No! That's not...that's...no, fuck!" I try while rubbing my forehead hard, polishing it to near squeaky clean.

"Beeeeeeeellll," I whine while pouting. 

He quickly jumps back to a standing position, not bothering to be embarrassed, nor pretend that _that_ had not happened. 

"Hey, there's no shame in ya' kinks," he retorts, putting his hands up defensively, "if you, like, get your rocks off with a telescope, who am I to judge? If it helps you, like, get there quicker, though by the look and sound of it, you don't really need the extra push; I'll have you know, it's the XT10...Plussss," he finishes off with a wide grin and a wink, for good measure. 

And that, again, sends my mind into overdrive, completely frying off my remaining neural receptors. 

"Bell..." I loud whisper in shock, "you can see everything with this!" I'm now tugging at his shirt hem, pulling him towards the telescope, "Mr. ATLAST Jr. can show us mars," I gently run the tip of my fingers through the cold, solid body of Mr. Atlats Jr. in adoration. 

I feel a heavy hand run down my arm then gently take my hand not currently caressing Mr. ATLAST Jr. I turn around only to find Bellamy's soft smile, and a fond look in his eyes that I've been catching him give me more frequently here and there lately, though what it means I'm yet to decipher, and honestly I haven't really tried to. 

"Happy birthday, Lex, I'm glad you liked it," he whispers softly, now holding my hand to his chest. My brows lightly furrow in confusion as my eyes jump from his eyes to our hands on his chest and back, unable to focus, trying to decipher what's going on. 

Finally it clicks.

"Oh my god, Bell!" I remove my hand resting on his chest from under his hand.

"You didn't have to...this...this is too much. I do love it, but it's too much. I can't accept this. I mean, god, the money, Bell, do you know how much these cost? Of course you know because you fucking bought me one!" I exclaim vigorously shaking my head, making my, now wild, locks fall all over my face. 

He pushes my glasses back up my nose and hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ears and cupping my face in the process.

"Hey, nonsense, Lex. You deserve the world. You're so fucking incredible, and I don't understand how you can't see it, or why you don't let the world see you!..it's a little frustrating sometimes, really" he removes his hands from my face and shrugs. 

"I love ya, ya' nerd, I hope you know that," he furrows his eyebrows slightly as he whispers this last part, all serious tone. 

"Which is why," he claps his hands perking back up, "this isn't all of it." 

"It isn't?" Clear confusion written all over my face. 

"Nope," emphasis on the 'p.'

"Are there more parts to Mr. ATLAST Jr.?" 

"Nope...and seriously, Lex? ATLAST Jr? It's a reflector telescope not the largest Uv optical-nir space telescope known to man that will change the way we view stars and space, and possibly help us identify life on other planets, currently in the works. Don't you dare compare them, Woods." He scoffs.

"Details" I respond, aimlessly waving my hand in the air and momentarily closing my eyes in slight frustration. "To me, its close enough."

"Fine then, Mr. ATLAST Jr. It is." He finally concedes, albeit reluctantly, arms crossed over his chest. 

"We. Are. Going camping! To test out your new telescope," he giddily replies. So embarrassing. "Sorry. Mr. ATLAST Jr." He corrects while rolling his eyes to the back of his head. 

"...with a few friends..." he adds slowly. Carefully eyeing my reaction. 

"I...I don't have any other friends...you know this. Who else could you possibly invite?" I stutter and I try not to, but my confusion and slight annoyance at this new piece of information makes me slightly snap at him as well, albeit in a soft voice, because I may choose to be a loner for the most part, but it also somewhat hurts to know that even if I wanted things to be different, well my anxiety wouldn't really allow it. And it's not that I'm really annoyed at the fact that others are joining, I'm more annoyed at the fact that I'm already feeling awkward, and uncomfortable and anxious at the prospect of having to interact with people I may not know.

"I know, I know," he desperately tries to soothe, "but my sister is back in SoCal for this weekend, and she just kinda sprung it up on me this week, and you know it's hard to get both, you and I out of work at the same time for a mini vaca, I'm the manager...and Lex, I haven't seen her in years, and yeah, she can be a handful, but she's also my sister...and frankly, I'm surprised she even wants to speak to me, let alone see me..." He rambles, eyes are big and pleading now.

"You have a sister?" I ask softly, more confused now than before. "You've never mentioned it."

"Yeah, twins actually. Older by a few minutes," he raises his hand sheepishly. "It's just us now, no other siblings, no parents, just a few people I used to...still consider family," sad tone coating his gravelly voice. 

"Her name's Octavia. And you and I have never really talked family, other than the few times you've mentioned your father in passing. You've never really said more about your family, it didn't seem like you wanted to; so I didn't mention mine and I didn't want to push. Figured it was just as much a tragic story as mine," he chuckles with no real humor. 

"No...well...actually...my family's not really all that bad. Religious and slightly homophobic, yes, but even then, they're not the super religious, super strict kind either," I reply. 

"My relationship with them became somewhat strained when they found out about my ex-girlfriend, specially since I moved in with her a few days after they found out...out of state..."

He keeps looking at me intently, letting me know he's listening, and nods for me to continue. So I take a deep breath and do so, because all in all, Bellamy really is my best friend and it feels good to finally feel comfortable enough with someone to really be able to share about myself. 

"They've actually accepted it since, and they're good people...it's my dad. We were really close before that, I was very much a daddy's girls -god, he's such a kind, gentle giant," I chuckle at the memory, moisture beginning to mist my eyes, "things changed when he found out I was gay. He wouldn't talk to me for months. He wasn't angry. He was sad, and disappointed, and somehow that was worse," I chuckle humorlessly, letting a few tears fall and promptly wiping them away. 

"He got over it, eventually. But I haven't been able to see him the same way since, he was my hero, and now he's just...human. And I didn't have the strength to face that change in our dynamic. So after my ex and I broke up, I left, came here actually, and I haven't spoken to them since. I texted them letting them know I was moving." I take off my glasses and chuck them away in frustration at my tears. "So see, it's not them, really, it's me..."

Bellamy reaches over and wipes at the remaining tears. 

"Oh, and I'm an only child," I say with a light chuckle bringing myself back from the doleful mood the memories has thrown me into. 

Bellamy smiles at that, eyes misty as well.

"So what happened between you and your sister?" I softly question. 

"Oh," he says surprised, as if he'd forgotten what had started this heart to heart. 

It was starting to feel like we were at confession, what with 'Your Holiness," Atlats Jr. standing next to us silently listening in, judging our transgressions, and hopefully readying our absolution. 

He brings his hand up to nervously rub the back of his neck.

"It happened years ago. I was such a stupid, cocky kid back then," he replies with a far away look, losing himself to the memories. "I screwed up bad, someone got hurt, and O.'s been hating me since...everyone else too, actually." 

"Anyway," he claps with false cheer, "it's in the past." He continues on to the kitchen," how about some beers, Woods? We have a big day tomorrow," he winks. 

"Wha...tomorrow?! I thought we'd wait 'till Saturday?"

"Hmm hmm, everyone's meeting here at seven a.m., leaving seven-thirty. Starting the weekend early." 

"So whose everyone, other than your sister...O. you said, right?"

"Oh, well, it's like, her and her fiancé and one of our childhood best friends, Clarke, whom I also haven't seen since maybe, like, a few days after I last spoke with O." 

"Ah, Klark Kent," I smile proud at my dorkiness, "Mr. Superman himself protecting us from harm during our impromptu camping trip."

"Impromptu for you, yes, not so much for me. I've had this planned for months now, minus O.'s sudden appearance. And this Clark Kent would actually be Supergirl, if anything; kinda fitting if she's still the same Clarke I used to know." He smiles fondly. 

"Oh, and Reyes is joining us. She knows the place well, knows all the hidden sites...we're actually camping away from the campgrounds." He looks at me nervously when he says this.

"Bell, don't look at me like that, I'm not that sheltered. I've never talked to Reyes...or anyone in the office, come to think of it," I bring up my pointer-finger to my chin pensively, "but she seems pretty cool. And I've actually been camping before, and believe it or not, I'm pretty adventurous. In fact, adventure is my middle name." Ok that was lame. 

"I thought it was, like, Bertha?" He scrunched his nose in clear amusement. 

"Oh my god, Bell! No. We said we were never speaking of that drunk confession ever again...Bell, we wrote it on a piece paper, put it in a box and buried it." I whine. 

"Fine, fine," he puts his hands up defensively, "we buried Bertha."

"Thank you."

Bellamy walks back into the living room, hands me a beer and plops himself down next to me on the couch, where I was now sitting.

"Bertha is long dead and buried, we made sure of it, you psychopath," he clinks his beer with mine and winks. "How about a few 'Friends' episodes? Then we can go pack and rest for tomorrow. How's that sound, Lexipoo?"

I pinch him hard because really, he had that coming. 

"Ow!" He yelps and rubs where I'd pinched him trying to soothe the spot. 

"Sure thing, Bologna," I answer smugly with a wink and a sip of my beer, while turning on the TV. 

"I kinda need my glasses back for this though," I say in realization while beginning to get up to look for the glasses I had chucked. 

"Mmm, here," he replies as he stops me from standing and hands me my glasses.

"When...when did you grab them?" I question him perplexed. 

"I didn't, it was just lazy writing."

"Oh...ok then...thank you?"

And with that I place my glasses back on my face while Bellamy prepare to load the 'Friends' episode we last left off at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, both telescopes do exists: the Orion XT10 is portable as opposed to the XT8, they're supposed to be the best for the general public (idk if that's entirely true), so thats pretty awesome. The ATLAST is an interesting project, it's supposed to have a sensitivity limit that is 2000 times better than the Hubble, I suggest you research it yourself.  
> Next chapter we'll get a little more background on Lexa and why she's in L.A. as well as maybe start meeting the rest of the gang!
> 
> Updates weekly/bi-weekly


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit's a flash-back chapter yo!
> 
> Definitely veers off the feel of the first chapter, but it was necessary to understand why someone would move clear across the country just to work at a car insurance agency; makes no sense, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots of angst ahead...some smut...depends on how you define "some."
> 
> So I lost like half of this chapter and had to re-write it, its not the same, and I was definitely riding "the crimson waves" (yes, I said a big people word...phrase?) when I first wrote it, hence the abundant angst.  
> The Beautiful Blob-fish did not proof read this for obvious reasons: *caughs* smut,  
> so be prepared to cringe at my mistakes, and ask yourself if I even know how to write in Ingresh?  
> Without further ado, here ya' go.  
> Hope you hate it!

_"Fuck, baby you're so wet," I husk as I drag my fingers through Costia's folds, while brushing my lips across her collarbone and stopping to lightly nip at the base of her throat, then proceed to soothe with my tongue. Costia lets out a light moan at the action. A moan I quickly swallow with a deep and slow kiss, letting my tongue explore every crevice of her mouth. I gently tug at her bottom lip with my teeth at the same time that I plunge two fingers into her entrance earning me a louder moan. I stop for a second and pull my head up just enough to be able to look into her gorgeous, chocolate eyes, our ragged breaths intermingling. She quickly shuts her eyes tight and arches her back. She's so beautiful like this, so open and vulnerable. I crash our lips together again, a little more desperate as I begin to pump my fingers in and out of her, her hips rolling in time with the rhythm I have set. I trail wet kisses down the column of her neck, down to the expanse of her chest, until I reach the hills of her breasts and I give the top of one a light nip, then proceed to take a nipple into my mouth, swirl my tongue around it, and suck at it in rhythm with my fingers; I know this drives her crazy. That earns me a louder moan as her breaths grow more ragged; I know she's close, so I bring my thumb up to draw circles at the tight bud of her clit._

_A cellphone rings loudly on the night stand._

_I groan in frustration at the interruption, but continue my ministrations._

_Costia tries to reach over to grab the cellphone on the nightstand screwing up my rhythm, but I'm nothing if not persistent._

_The phone stops ringing before she can reach it, so she plops back down onto the bed with a huff. I place a leg between hers, using it to aid me in pushing my fingers in deeper as I begin to roll my hips in deep, slow plunges, curling my fingers every so often. Her breathing becomes more broken, mixed with louder moans in rhythm with her hips which are now desperately trying to meet each pump of mine. I graze her right nipple with my teeth, because I know she's more sensitive there, and she cries out, I know for sure she's almost there now, judging by her rhythmic cries and the tightening of her core._

_The cellphone rings again and I grunt, but I don't let up._

_Costia reaches over to try and reach the phone again._

_"Baby, I need to get that."_

_I don't stop, if anything, I speed up, now setting an unrelenting pace. She lets out another loud cry._

_The phone continues ringing._

_"Baby..." she breathes exasperated, while she pushes my head away that has been busy pleasuring her breasts; I've always been a breasts girl. I stop my pumping and drop my head on her chest face down and grunt again loudly in displeasure._

_The phone stops ringing, only to start back up right away._

_"I really need to get this," she apologizes, but with a slight edge to her voice._

_I pull my fingers out of her with another (now sexually) frustrated grunt and roll off of her laying next to her on the bed facing her as she sits up, back against the headrest as she answers as professionally as her, 'we've just been fucking', voice will allow._

_"Costia Greene."_

_I watch her intently, dark skin glistening with light droplets of, now cooling sweat from our previous activities. Her eyebrows furrow at whatever news she's receiving. I bring the two fingers still coated in her juices into my mouth, and slowly, and seductively suck them clean as I watch her mouth part and eyes darken at the action._

_"Y...yeah...yes," she stutters, swallowing hard as I straddle my gorgeous girlfriend and skim my lips over her pulse-point. "Yeah, I'm listening," she husks._

_"Yes, I'll be there in about fifteen?" I stop and drop my head onto her shoulder. "Ok, yes, I'll be there in a bit."_

_Costia puts her cellphone back down on the nightstand and places a hand to my chest, gently pushing me away. "Baby...they need me at the office, I need to go."_

_I look up at her with pleading eyes, "really? Cos, it's Sunday. Why would they need you on a Sunday?" She looks away unable to meet my eyes "baby..."_

_"Lex. It's my job. You know my schedule is hectic, you knew this when you met me," she responds a little more sternly. "I'm the sole breadwinner here, this is what we live off of," she throws in with something akin to resentment bouncing off her retinas. And I have to admit, that hurts my pride._

_I stare at her, hurt coating my eyes around the edges. And it's not that I don't have a job, I do, just not a stable one. I'm a writer, a damn good one at that, but it's been years since I've written anything worthwhile, not being able to follow up the success of my first book due to lack of inspiration; and really, that was pure luck, my book getting picked up and actually mildly succeeding. I know how this business works: it takes more than talent to succeed, great writers often falling through the cracks and going their whole lives without anyone ever even having glanced at their work; literary masterpieces remaining hidden in an old drawer at the bottom of useless knick-knacks and undelivered love-letters in someone's cluttered attic. Hell, she knows that damn well. And she knows how hard this writer's block has been on my self esteem as a writer. Hell, she was the one who insisted I stay at home and work on my writing rather than go out and try to land a stable teaching job, as I had ultimately decided quite some time ago._

_I stare at her unable to speak._

_She lets out an exasperated sigh._

_Her eyes staring straight ahead rather than at mine._

_I die a little inside._

_I look away, emotion beginning to glisten my eyes._

_That gets her attention._

_"Lex, baby, look at me," she gently grabs my chin and turns my face to face her. "Baby, don't look at me like that, I don't want to fight again...you know I love you" she places a chaste kiss on my lips and smiles a small smile that I can plainly see is not sincere. It's been happening more often than I'd like to admit: the false smiles that won't reach her eyes, insincere soft words spoken into my hair and skin when we're not making love, words drifting through the air and into the vents never really having their intended effect; eyes that won't focus on mine, or will but only for a fleeting moment before they're quickly looking away like a fidgety child. Or focusing only when they are stern and angry...I think that's the worst._

_"It's just...it's been a while, Cos," I whisper slumping my shoulders while unconsciously pouting._

_Her eyebrows shoot up, "So that's what you're worried about? Fucking?"_

_My eyes widen in shock, "No. No! That's not what I meant...I mean, that too, fuck it's been months, Cos, but no...that's not...It's just...it's been a while since we've had a whole weekend to ourselves. Fuck, it's been a while since we've had a whole fucking day!" I cry, voice growing louder in annoyance as I push myself off of her and off the bed standing next to her._

_"Fucking shit, Alexandria," she angrily pushes herself off the bed and begins to rummage through her side of the closet for work-appropriate clothes, "the bills won't pay themselves: we need to be able to actually buy food and pay the fucking rent. And let's not get started on your fucking expensive, pretentious coffee that you can't seem to able to live without because, 'it's straight outta the farm, and a good coffee is like a fine wine,' " she mimics. "You forget you like living a...you know what, I can't do this with you right now, I'm going to take a shower. Don't. Follow me. I don't have time to continue 'this,' " she flits her hand between the two of us. I logically know she means the sex, but it somehow feels like it means more; and hasn't that been the story of our daily interactions lately? Decoding hidden messages between the lines we fling at each other. Wondering whether a word or phrase has more than one meaning; like a cheating father having a whole secret, second family, all the while pretending to lead a happy, holy, Christian life._

__

_She swiftly turns and walks away, slamming the restroom door as she closes it._

__

_I shut my eyes and sigh a frustrated sigh, as I hear the shower running._

__

_How did we get here?_

__

__

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

__

__

_I know it's crazy._

__

_We were just fighting not two hours ago and I know I'll see her in a few, but I can't shake the sinking feeling, so I keep running. I keep running, turning sharp at corners, bumping onto shoulders, not bothering to stop to apologize._

__

_Costia left this afternoon, promptly after her shower. No kiss goodbye, no words acknowledging her girlfriend of four years sitting on the sofa, eyes rimmed red and puffy, waiting to apologize for the way the morning was ripped from us. Apologize for the part I played in holding my hand over hers on the lever and pulling, devastating what was left of the warmth of soft, bare skin; sweet morning kisses and caresses; and whispered words of love._

__

_She wouldn't acknowledge me as she left. She slammed the door on her way out, the sound waves crashing against my cardiovascular muscle, stilling it in shock for a second, then resuscitating with a quiver._

__

_Something felt off._

__

_The frequency and intensity of our fights had escalated over the past few months. But something felt different about her most recent departure._

__

_Cold._

__

_Ever the introspective person, I sat still on the couch for over an hour, rummaging through all our shared memories of the past few months, fuck, of our entire relationship. Trying to decipher, where in this relationship had I gone wrong? Which words were misspoken by my traitorous lips? Where had my actions been too much and where had they not been enough? Where had 'I' not been enough? Shining a light on all my shortcomings, interrogating them; when had they entered our home and to what end?_

__

_And finally shinning the same light on her actions, her words, her whole entire existence as my girlfriend._

__

_Finally shining a light on her's._

__

_Finally shining a light on 'her.'_

__

_So I ran._

__

_I ran not bothering to change out of the tank-top and sweatpants I had thrown on after she'd gone into the shower, simply shoving my feet into the first pair of sneaker I found...and not bothering to fix them on their respective foot (right shoe on right foot; left shoe on left foot, Alexandria) I ran towards her office building. I had to apologize. I had to make sure she knew I'd try harder. Now._

__

_I had to make sure the tether that kept us together had not been severed._

__

_I finally reached her office building, pushing the door open and running up the stairs towards the fifth-floor, foregoing the elevator and not stopping to notice just how empty the building was. Not paying heed to the burning in my chest and legs._

__

_At last, I reach the door to her office and throw it open, not bothering with the nuisance of knocking._

_I freeze._

_"Mmmm...fuck," she moans._

_My mother used to say that my sense of 'flight or fight' was broken, and that's why I needed someone with 'real fight' in them by my side, or at the very least someone who 'could run.' My baby-gay self misunderstood what that actually meant: my first girlfriend was in my middle-school's track team...the second on the wrestling. Mom had to sit me down after that, and explain to me that the phrase was actually a metaphor. She, of-course, did not know these were 'girlfriends' and not 'boyfriends,' just what I had told her about their athletic prowess; otherwise that would have brought on a talk of a whole different nature._

_When I was five, my older cousin, Finn had convinced me to go explore his neighbor, Mr. Johnson's backyard because many balls and random toys had gone missing there and we were bound to find some real treasure. He assured me Mr. Johnson hardly ever came out, so really, it'd be totally safe._

_It was not safe._

_Mr. Johnson had dogs (plural) guarding his backyard._

_We dug a hole under the fence where the soil was slightly more lose and moist, only big enough for our small, gangly bodies to fit through. We made it a cross the fence and began to make our way across the yard, and boy was Finn right! Used toys littered the back yard waiting for their rightful owners to someday come claim them and take them back to their homes...then we saw them. Four huge dogs: growling, baring their teeth, heavily salivating at the sight of their next meal. What breed were they? I cannot recall, and honestly I was too frightened (and young) to really notice. However to this day, judging by their size and terrifying posture, I assume their breed to be somewhere along the lines of 'The Hounds of Hell,' now angrily barking and running toward us. Finn ran and made it through the hole and back to his backyard._

_I stood there._

_Wide eyed and frozen._

_Unable to form coherent thoughts...unable to form 'any' thoughts at all._

_to move._

Mr. Johnson must've been watching through the glass sliding-door facing his back yard, because moments later he was running towards me, quickly scooping me up in his strong, fatherly arms and commanding his dogs to stand down. But he wasn't fast enough, and one of his dogs' clawed-paws had been able to slap heavily against my small face. I still have a scar almost in perfect parallel over my right eyebrow. Ever since, whenever I'm too shocked, scared, stressed, etc. I freeze. 

_And so there I stood._

_Frozen._

_Mouth agape and eyes wide in shock, horror and hurt._

_I don't know how long I stood there. It felt like hours, though realistically it must've been only a few minutes, judging by Costia's rapidly approaching orgasm._

_There my gorgeous, topless girlfriend of four years lay; bent over her desk, skirt pushed up over her waist, her boss, Nia, in a perfectly tailored power-suit, fucking her from behind. Rhythmic pants and moans piercing through thick air. The pungent smell of sex penetrating my nostrils and making me nauseous. I realized then that this was not their first round. I can't recall when silent tears began streaming down my cheeks._

_With a loud broken cry she came._

_Hard._

_I sobbed a devastating loud sob in perfect sync with her blissful cry._

_They both abruptly stopped._

_"Holy shit!" Costia cried, pushing herself off her desk, smoothening her skirt back down and shoving Nia away, all in one swift motion._

_I felt like I had been shot through the chest, the overpowering pain and heat traveling, spreading through my thorax. Another sob fell from my lips, sob that I quickly choked on, unable to breath from the pressure._

_Wide eyed in panic, Costia takes a few, slow stuttering steps toward me, wild curls falling over her face, plastered around the edges of her brow from the perspiration secreted during her strenuous and traitorous activities. She brings up a shaky hand as if trying to appease a frightened, cornered animal. "L...Lexi...baby...shit," she breathes, "I think she's not breathing," she turns to Nia who seems completely unperturbed._

_"Deal with this," Nia commands Costia, pointing sharply at me while making her way out of the office in fast, powerful strides, slightly pushing me aside on her way out._

_"Hey, Lexi?...can you breath for me, baby?" Costia whispers sweetly while cupping my face, where I still stood frozen in place._

____

_She begins to slowly walk backwards, still holding my cheeks in her hands, guiding me towards her expensive, office chair. The shooting pain in my feet finally brings me back to reality and I shove her away._

____

_"No. No," I shake my head violently trying to shake the image of the love of my life climaxing at the hands of her boss, all the while slapping her hands, usurpers of my sanctuary, away, that are still reaching to hold me._

____

_"Don't you dare touch me!" I growl, and I try to sound menacing in my pain induced anger, but my quivering lip gives me away. "How...why...why would you...why?" I cry, and with the damn in my eyes breaking once more, it almost sounds like a whine._

____

_"Lex...this isn't...I wasn't...it doesn't mean anything..." Costia hurriedly tries._

____

_"Don't you dare try to lie to me, Costia," and though tears are still making tracks on my cheeks, my mind finally catches up, the haze of the shock having been lifted. I am furious. "How could you do this to me...How long has this been going on?"_

____

_"Six months..." she whispers, choking on tears._

____

_"Fuck...Six. Fucking. Months?!" I'm now furiously pacing her office, the pain in my feet worsening with each step bringing more tears to my eyes, blinding me with hurt and anger, as I try to make sense of how and when everything went to shit. "Where you planing on ever telling me? Or fuck! Stopping?!"_

____

_"Lex...I...shit!" She sobs, running both hands through her curls and bringing them back down to cover her face, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, Lex. I fucked up, I fucked up so bad," she stares blankly at the floor, arms up, hands cupping her neck "I just...fuck...you were just..."_

____

_I cease my pacing._

____

_I stare at her: fiery viridescent flames burning in fury through my ocular pools._

____

_Is she really about to excuse her treason?_

____

_"I was just what?" I growl lowly through clenched teeth emphasizing the 't.'_

____

_"You were just so...so...fuck Lex, I needed more!" She finally concedes loudly._

____

_"I...I gave you everything!" my voice breaks at every syllable. I blink furiously, "I gave you everything," I whisper slowly._

____

_"I know, and believe me, I appreciate you, and I love you for it..."_

____

_"Don't say that, don't you dare say that you love me."_

____

_"Lexi, baby, I do. I really do..." she searches her words, "I just...fuck. Lex, you have no ambitions, you're just...there...and I just got so tired of carrying the weight for the both of us..."_

____

_A weight falls heavily to the bottom of my stomach and I grow cold; blood draining, my nerve ending tingling._

____

_I know she's right, and that hurts._

____

_She stares at me, lips parted as if wanting to continue, yet waiting for me to respond._

____

_I don't._

____

_I can't._

____

_She swallows heavily, clearing some of the phlegm brought on by the tears. "When we met, you were so full of ambitions and wanted to do so many things. You were this big shot, talented writer - because you really are talented Lexi- riding the high of your success." She shakes her head and chuckles lightly, "god, you were so confident, almost cocky; so fucking sexy. God, I wanted you the moment I saw you! You were always so in control, you had this commanding presence...and then...fuck, what happened to you Lexi?" She questions expectantly._

____

_"I...I don't know..." I whisper, and blink a few more times, my eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the realization that I really don't know what the hell happened to me. "I really don't know."_

____

_I'm stunned. What happened to me? She's right. Though I've always been a little more on the quiet side: always more preoccupied with spending my time reading and writing than actually conversing and making friends out of strangers. But I wore my intellectual introversion with confidence. I knew who I was and what I wanted, and I acted the part. When did I lose myself? When did I let my lack of success dictate my insecurities? When did I allow said insecurities to grow and run rampant, stunting my growth. Stunting 'our' growth._

____

_I don't know, I really don't._

____

_But anger quickly returns, fueled by the reminder of the events that led to this conversation._

____

_"I may have changed. I may have stopped being what you wanted...who you wanted, but fuck! That does not excuse what you did!" I spit, "that does not excuse what I walked into. "You could have talked to me about all of this. You could have left me if you no longer loved me!"_

____

_"But I do love you!" She sobs, "I do...you're just...not what I need," she finishes softly in defeat._

____

_I don't think I've ever experienced a more devastating pain. The pain of the knowledge that my love is, in fact requited, but I'm just simply not enough._

____

_Sobs rack my body, Costia brings me into a tight hug and I allow the comforting gesture. I allow it knowing that this will probably be the last time: I can't in all honesty, be with someone I can no longer trust._

____

_"This is it, isn't it?" Costa questions softly onto my hair._

____

_I shake my head on her shoulder, "yes...I can't...like this...with you anymore..."_

____

_We both cry, allowing the tears to wash away the ruins of our relationship. It had never really been built to last, having been built on a flimsy foundation._

____

_"Fuck! It hurts so much, Cos!" I sob._

____

_Costia cups my cheek with one hand, placed the other on my heart._

____

_"I know...fuck, do I know, but we'll both heal, you'll move on. No one's died of a broken heart yet...even if it hurts and feels like you will.."_

____

_"My heart feels like it's been ripped to shreds, yeah...but my feet are fucking killing me!" I whimper._

____

_Costia blinks in confusion, puts a bit of distance between us and looks down._

____

_She barks out a laugh._

_I stare dumbfounded at her._

____

_"Oh my god!" she bends over laughing, holding my arm to steady herself, "how did you not notice they were on the wrong foot?..those don't even belong to us..." she cocks her head studying my shoes, "those are too small...what size are they even?"_

____

_I laugh softly as well because really, what the fuck Alexandria?_

____

_"Aw, poor baby, no wonder your feet hurt."_

____

_"I don't know...I didn't care, I was just too preoccupied with getting here...I...I was going to apologize for this morning, but I guess it's too late now..." I drift off, both our laughters subsiding. I slide my feet out of the sneakers and chuck them away._

____

_"Umm, I think...I think I'll just pick up my things. Leave in the morning? The apparent's under your name anyway. And I don't really own much..."_

____

_"What? No. Lex. You don't have to move out just yet."_

_"Yes. I really think I do," I admit, bleakly._

_"Are you going back to your parents'?" She questions._

____

_"Umm...yeah, I think so..." and that's a lie. I really don't want to go home and face my parents, but I also can't stay here._

____

_"Well...I guess we should head back home then..?"_

____

_"I kinda ran all the way here..."_

____

_"You have a car Lex..."_

____

_"I know...I wasn't thinking straight...somehow, running seemed like the fastest way to get here..." I admit sheepishly._

____

_"Come on," Costia motions to her office door, "I'll drive."_

____

____

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

____

____

_With all my things packed into my '88 Honda Accord (Costia and I having said our good-byes just a few minutes ago before she left to her office to actually work) I sit in my car, contemplating my next move._

____

_I could drive to my parents like I said I would, but I haven't seen them, only spoken to them (through text message) a handful of times since I moved in with Costia from my parents home in Syracuse, to our...her apartment, here in Boston. And I really don't feel like I'm ready to face them and their archaic views; their expectations of me._

____

_I could call Anya. I mean, we haven't spoken at all since she left to UCLA after high-school, and that's really my fault; but she did tell me to contact her if I ever needed anything...would her offer still stand? What would I say to her? How would I even start? Fuck, in times like these, I really wish I made more of an effort to make, and actually keep, friends._

____

_Maybe I should just drive out to L.A.? figure out what to say to Anya once I get there, or whether to even contact her...I do need a change of scenery anyway. Maybe the change will finally bring this writer's block from hell to an end._

____

_Yeah, I thin I'll do that._

____

_And so I set my phone's GPS (who owns an actual, physical TomTom anymore?) to L.A., well Hollywood to be exact, because who doesn't want to live in 'Hollywood'? Turn the key in the ignition, and wait the eternity it takes my car to warm up, because remember: this is an ancient car, with a manual engine._

____

_So I set off to my new, Hollywood based adventure, with a heart full of hopes and a head full of dreams. But first, I need to caffeine-ate myself before I do so. I set off to my favorite coffee shop one last time, Render Coffee, because what serious coffee lover would drink Starcrust?_

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it.  
> Yes, I did purposely advertise Render Coffee: as a coffee lover, I always feel the need to share great coffee shops with whomever listens (please join me in my caffeine addiction).  
> If you're ever in Boston and is interested in great coffee, check them out, they're on 563 Columbus Ave.  
> If you're ever in the Sunny SoCal area, well, hit me up and I can recommend many more great coffee shops.  
> We didn't get to meet the gang as I had originally intended, but this chapter was already a bit long...and I may or may not have lost the first few chapters of that meet-up in "The Great Technologically Impaired Mishap," it was terrible, many losses were suffered.  
> Next chapter we'll get back to the gang. Shenanigans will ensue!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Kents!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nap patterns were disrupted in order to post this.  
> Beautiful-Blobfish's brain was woken from it's slumber.  
> This chapter is a bit shorter...  
> Hope you hate it!

"Lex," Mr. ATLAST whispers sweetly in my ear from where it lays, snuggled into my arms in my super comfy, orthopedic bed (because back problems are no joke); we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. I think we're soulmates. 

"Lexipoo," it whispers again.

"Mmm. No. No Lexipoo," I sleepily slur while pouting. I really hate that nickname. 

"We're out of coffee, Leximusss," I hear it singsong. 

I shoot up in bed, eyes flying open, the living-dead rising from its slumber. I can practically hear J. C. Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D minor bouncing off the walls, echoing throughout my nesting grounds. 

Bellamy presses stop on his iPod. 

"I was ready this time! Yessss!!!" He giddily jumps and claps repeatedly, like a seal after it's performed a trick and is now waiting for its reward. Aww, my big, handsome man. 

"Did you know that you like, look like Bella Lugosi in, "spins and drapes his arm around himself like his got an actual cape, "Dracula when you fear the loss of caffeine?" Because according to Bellamy, Bella Lugosi is the only true Dracula.

I ignore his comment, and terrible use of my Bose 5.1 surround sound...ok so maybe I have like three speakers placed around my room...not Bose, but close enough. I had a buddy (read: my weed supplier, Pedro I think? Or is it Mark? It could very well be Ping...Daquan?) build me up a cheap, but awesome system. So really, I only achieve 3.1, but 'it'll still blow your panties off,' not that I've tried; Bellamy has, he said it worked (I was obviously not home, and he obviously has no sense of privacy).

"Buh...but I just bought a bag...I drove all the way to Boy & the Bear for the last Don Cesar," I whine, "I had to punch a lady for it...an ooold lady...in the throat..." I almost feel like crying. Almost. 

"Why didn't you just drive to Urth?" 

I stare at him; bewilderment and horror plastered across my countenance. 

"How. Dare. You. Bell? Honestly. I taught you better than this." 

I'm so disappointed in him. First of all, it took me ages to get him off of Starcrust: He honestly thought a Javachip frap was actual coffee. I almost died when he made such a revealing confession; I wish it had been a drunk confession, hell, I wish I had been drunk (I still get flashbacks late at night, or when everything is still and all I can hear is the upstair neighbor's trap-music blasting loudly, or my neighbor's rhythmic thumping...I'm pretty sure he just humps a pillow, I'm yet to see anyone other than him walk in and out of that apartment). I now have to buy (and brew) our morning coffee (when I wake in time to brew a batch for both) because otherwise he'll buy that big red-tub of Folger's, because 'that's what they buy for the office.' 

Sure, Urth Café is always packed, and they're pretty big with the IG famous crowd, mainly because, yes they're food and coffee presentation is beautiful; picture-worthy, but that's as far as that goes. They're way too overpriced for the quality. I've explained this so. Many. Times to Bellamy, he should know better by now. 

Honestly, I feel like a parent trying to teach their child not to shit in their pants. But sometimes that takes way too damn long, and it's frustrating as hell, so you end up bribing them with a dollar for every time they do poop in the potty. Mom says it was my favorite party trick... 'till I was five: taking out my spaceships and galaxies adorned potty at gatherings, taking a shit in it, and asking guests for a dollar, all while grinning widely. Easy money. Those were the days...

"Ha!"

He blinks, "Oh. My. God. Are you...are you about to cry?" He scrunches his nose in amusement. 

"No..." my voice wobbles. 

"Dude, we have like about half a bag of Don Cesar, and you still have enough Nicaragua Reds for about " wiggles his hand, "four cups?" He finishes off in a pleading tone, complete with his famous kicked-puppy eyes. Damn him. He knows I can't refuse that. 

So maybe I won't have to bribe him with a dollar after all. Kid's learning to shit all on his own. 

"Fine," I roll my eyes while suppressing a yawn, "I'll brew us the last of The Reds. What time is it anyway?"

Now, Bellamy has the decency to look slightly abashed. Only slightly. "Umm...5:30...ish?" 

I gasp. 

The betrayal! 

"I had an hour left, Bell..."

"That would've only given you half an hour to get ready aaaand brew coffee." He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms, "how you manage to look the way you do, and make it to work on time when you always wake up, like ten minutes before work...and still brew us coffee? I'll never know." 

"I don't make it to work on time, you clock me in, in exchange for good caffeine," I retort with a goofy smile, proud at my coffee brewing skills. "And what do you mean by 'look the way you do?'" I mimic. 

"Perfect," he whispers under his breath. 

"What?" I ask, distracted by the newly formed pizza-sauce stain on my 'perpetually white' covers. I know, for a fact, that this was not my doing. This had to have been Bellamy. Again.

On several occasions (more than I'd like), I've walked in on a boxer-clad (sometimes, men's bikini-underware. Why Bellamy???) Bellamy, sprawled, stomach first, on my super-comfy-orthopedic-bed-with-perpetually-white-covers; slice of greasy pizza on one hand, one of my nudie mags (I like print) on the other, legs swinging, and a wide, pizza-sauce covered grin on his face. On such occasion, after I've gotten over the initial shock (mainly of a bikini-underware-clad Bellamy)...I join him. Man's got good taste. I also however, pry the pizza from his claws, and set in on the nightstand. Wipe his sauce covered fingers with the wet-wipes I have on said nightstand, because he'll forget and wipe on my covers, can't risk him staining my sheets. Again. 

When confronted, he always responds stating that: 'you just have a comfy rich-kid bed, and a poor kid from Inglewood -up to no good- just can't resist.' He's not, from Inglewood I mean, from what I hear, he comes from the 'nice' side of L.A., whatever that means. He just likes saying that so he can spit out the infamous phrase. 

"I said: like a total nerd."

I scoff 

"But you're, like a good looking nerd. You pull it off really good, Leximus." 

"Well." I correct while getting out of bed. "And don't call me 'Leximus'" 

"Why can't you brew your own coffee again?" I ask, now adjusting my glasses as I begin to make my way towards the bedroom door where he stands. 

Not that I mind brewing the nectar of the gods with the coffee-brewing gifts they have bestowed upon me (read: countless hours spent on YouTube watching coffee-brewing videos, like the proper nerd that I am). I just want to make sure that, it being me the one that brews coffee, has nothing to do with some archaic gender-role views he may or may not have. You never know. 

"You just make better coffee, and plus, it's not fun having you hover over me as I attempt to brew, because 'I'm not letting it bloom, or I'm agitating the water too much, and I have to calculate in grams my coffee to water ratio'...shall I go on?" 

I look up meeting his big, chocolate eyes. Mmm...bulging eyes? 

He gulps and point at my breasts. 

"Umm...Your tiddy...it's umm... hanging out of your tank-top," he huskily stammers. 

I throw my head back in exasperation. "Fucking-A. Every. Single. Time!" I adjust my top. 

It's a known fact: if you sleep with a tank top on, you're guaranteed to wake up with a nipple hanging out, most likely out of a side. It's just science. Laws of physics and all of that witchcraft.

"Also, they're called breasts, not 'tiddays.' You're a grown-ass man, Bellamy Blake." I raise my brows and level him with a stare as I saunter past him and out my room to begin my coffee brewing ritual. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's 7:30 Bell. When were they supposed to be here, again?" I ask...for the twelfth time in the past hour, bringing the sixteen-ounce coffee filled tumbler to my lips. Both of us now standing on the sidewalk outside of our apartment, the smell of the hot coffee in my hands, trash in the alley and piss inundating my nostrils; smog and morning breeze filling my lungs with every deep breath. Stray dogs barking in the distance. The sound of bums fucking in said alley, either that or someone is severely constipated. 

God, I love this city! 

Bellamy had piled our camping gear into the back of his truck and had everything ready by seven, so now we were just playing the waiting game. 

Sometimes, late at night, we drive out to the Santa Susana Pass in his truck, and just lay there stargazing on the back of his truck. He sometimes bull-shits constellation names, and I've caught him dubbing more than one, 'The Big Dipper.' I let it slide because well, he's Bellamy. But the desert and hills composed of giant-jagged rocks make for a beautiful backdrop to our late night stargazing near the city. 

I moan. Fuck, that's good coffee. 

"Here," Bellamy hands me a citrus scone from my favorite bakery, "I picked some up yesterday on the way back from work. Thought you may want one with your morning coffee." 

The tips of his ears begin to shade red. 

He knows I know what this means.

I stare at the scone with lustful adoration. These usually sell out early in the morning, if he picked them up after work, it's because he had to have placed an actual order of my favorite pastry. They don't take online orders, and they almost never answer the phone, but their pastries are to die for so it's worth it. But that means he had to talk to an actual person, to like, their face. I Sometimes wonder how I got so lucky rooming with such a sweet guy. 

"It's not a street hot-dog...but you kind of eat way too many of those already. You know?"

I snatch the heavenly pastry from his hand and scoff. He may have provided me with a mouth orgasm inducer, but no one puts down a street dog. That's just disrespectful.

"Don't talk shit, Bellamy. You love those too."

He shrugs.

I check my phone again. 

Bellamy squints his eyes suspiciously at the mutt sitting next to me.

Mutt squints eyes back.

Mutt slowly lifts its leg to pee on me.

"No!" Bellamy barks at the dog while stomping to shoo it away, "shoo, you stupid mutt!"

Startled, I look down in time to see the stray running away. But apparently not before succeeding in peeing on me. I feel a warm trickle of moisture running down the outside of my right leg. 

"Fuuuuuuuck my life," I groan vexed.

"I'm so sorry, Lex..." 

"Don't be, it's not your fault, probably would have been worse if you hadn't intervened." I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. "I'm gonna go clean up. Change my socks..." I grimace, now feeling the moisture begin to penetrate the top of my sock. There's nothing worse than wet socks. Well, maybe stepping on a lego...or a fiery death (chillax, too dark, Lexa, too dark). 

As I turn to run back upstairs to our third floor apartment, the sound of a car door slamming shut reverberates against the pavement. 

I freeze.

"Hey, Sorry we're late!" 

I turn to see a gorgeous brunette waving at us (possibly just at Bellamy; she don't know my life) and running towards us from the black Land Rover parked about twenty feet away from us. Clearly this is Bellamy's sister, what with the resemblance and all. Good looks must run in the Blake gene pool. 

She could have parked closer. 

She slows to a stop as she reaches Bellamy. 

They both just stand there. Taking each other in, not knowing what to do next. Eyes shining with emotion. A small smile breaks on the brunette's face. Bellamy throws his arms around her, and brings her into a tight embrace. I hear a wet chuckle escape his lips.

"God, O. You've grown up," I can hear the smile of a proud big brother in his voice as he speaks these words. 

"You're pretty elderly yourself," she laughs into his shoulder. 

Bellamy pulls out of the embrace and holds her at arms length by her shoulders, studying her. 

"Everyone's waiting in the car, we didn't know how this was going to go," she says, flitting her hand between them two, looking away, slightly guilty. "We decided to play it...safe."

"Hey, no. I totally get it," Bellamy softly reassures.

They both pull away and wipe away the tears still moistening their cheeks. Bellamy still looking at Octavia like she's the moon, which I guess, for a proud big brother seeing his little sister all grown up after such a long time; I guess she really is. 

Octavia turns and motions with her hand for whomever is left in the car to come meet us...erm Bellamy.

She swiftly turns back around, suddenly remembering something, or someone, "Oh, shit! Hey, I'm so sorry," she apologizes. 

I'm still standing where I was when I had started to turn to run back upstairs, hands stiffly shoved in the back pockets of my shorts, frozen in place, trying not to intrude, yet unable to look away and not really sure what to do with myself. Piss-moistened sock completely forgotten. 

Octavia sticks her hand out enthusiastically, "Octavia. O., call me O. The better Blake," she smiles widely, waiting for me to take the outstretched hand.

I stare at her hand for a second, anxiety beginning to rear it's ugly head. I swallow it down.

"Hey," I try softly, "Lexa, the lesser Blake's roommate. Nice t..." I trail off.

"Hey!..." Bellamy yelps indignantly at the 'lesser Blake' remark, when he too trails off. I'm sure at the same glorious sight. I feel the breath sucked out of my lungs. If I should die at this moment, I will die a happy woman, knowing God is real and has got amazing tits...(breasts, breasts, Lexa).

Time seems to slow down, as the golden-goddess (whom I assume is Clarke, judging by her being the only other woman emerging from the vehicle) stalks slowly towards us, hips swaying; long, tousled, wavy, blond tresses blowing in the wind (when did we get wind?). Good-earth cleavage bouncing in a hypnotic rhythm, keeping me stood in place, mind swimming in a daze. 

I've always been a boob girl. 

My mouth parts slightly, my salivary glands working overtime. Heart palpitating rapidly, or has it stopped? I can't really tell at this point. My knees feel weak, hands sweaty (mom's spaghetti). 

"Day bow-bow..." is all I that am able to whisper under my breath, all my thought process having completely ceased the moment ocean waves violently crashed against my forest. 

"Oh, yeah..." Bellamy responds, in the same manner, yet an octave lower? 

(Chicka-chicka) 

"What was that?" I query distractedly yet kinda really perplexed because, what the fuck? 

Bellamy shrugs, equally distracted, "Ambiance."

"What are you guys even looking at?" Octavia slowly asks confused turning at look at our line of sight. 

"The Kents." /"That guy." We both respond at the same time. 

I sharply turn to stare at Bellamy with a 'WTF' face, because really, what the fuck. Bellamy turns and looks at me with an equally what the fuck face. Seriously: What. The. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray for cliffhangers!  
> Kudos if you caught the "It's Always Sunny" reference carelessly shoved in there. If you didn't, the episode is called "Sweet Dee Has a Heart Attack." It's probably one of the best episodes, I suggest you watch it, like right now. Stop reading. Go watch it.  
> Next chapter may or may not be a flashback a-la Bellamy Blake. Idk, still deciding wether or not to insert it here or later. We'll see.


	4. (Clarke's POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's up yo'  
> It's been 84 years...  
> I know, this one is hella late, and it's a bit short too...  
> *dodges flying shoes and dildos*  
> Hope you absolutely detest it!

"You nervous?" Murphy side-eyes me from where he's sat, next to me in the back-seat of Octavia's Land Rover. 

John Murphy was a fairly new addition to The Group. New in the sense that he did not enter The Group in elementary school like the rest had. A group that had grown significantly smaller, Bellamy being the first one to leave, on his self imposed exile. Lincoln's older sister, Costia following a few years later, having gotten a spot at an important law-firm in Boston, and consequently meeting some hot-shot writer she quickly cozied up with. 

Costia never really quite fit in with the rest of us, she was highly ambitious and constantly looking for popularity. And though there's really nothing wrong with a little ambition, the problem lay in the way she went about obtaining what she desired. In the end nothing was ever enough for her; we were never enough. She started distancing herself from the group once she left for college, by the time she was out interning, we hardly ever heard from her. Once she was out in the workforce making a name for herself, her life was almost completely private from us, so we never got to meet this mysterious writer, she must've been something though: Costia Greene was not one to settle down. All we've heard since, and this is through Lincoln's lips: is that she's still working at the same law firm, minus the writer...but that was to be expected: Costia Greene does not settle. 

Nevertheless, The Group had become smaller, only three of us, original members, remaining. But that's life: people grow up, move on with their lives, or just move on...well just because. 

John Murphy. 

John Murphy.

How to begin to describe John Murphy? 

We met Murphy at our first frat party of our freshman year at San Francisco State, Octavia and I having both been accepted. 

Octavia, in those days, could not take her liquor (though she stubbornly argued that she most definitely could): this was before endless partying had turned us into seasoned drinkers, because our high-school partying did not hold a light to what college brought in terms of partying, drinking...aventure d'un soir. So there we were, well into the night, drunk off our asses, trying to walk (or stumble)back to our dorm. 

At some point in our arduous journey, Octavia decided that she was 'hella sleepy,' so laying down on the concrete floor was totally a great idea. Now, had Lincoln also been with us, it would have been fine. He would have whisked her away in his strong, muscular arms, and all would have been well (or so she will forever argue); I was not, at the time, into the shape required to carry a limp and comatose Octavia, the ten minutes to our dorm, hour long when drunk. Lincoln, however, had stayed in L.A., choosing to pursue a career in acting; so staying in L.A. made perfect sense for him. 

While Octavia was found lost in slumber, blissfully flatulating (because lets face it, once passed out, beer farts are an actual thing) on the concrete floor, I found myself drunkenly panicking and clumsily slapping her on the face, trying to wake her up; slurring, "Octavia, your bed'ss ssooooo much bigger, letsssss..."  
It obviously did not work. So I did whatever logical drunk would...I laid down on the floor, because I too was tired and her bed was not bigger, spooned her and proceeded to drift off to Neverland.

Murphy, had spotted our wobbly exit from the frat house, from the dark corner where he was mysteriously brooding, beer in his hand (which he brought from a local brewery); clad in his tight, faded black jeans, Dock Martin's, dark turtle neck and black nail-polish (he's an art major, 90's grunge bands were/are still his thing). To the naked eye, Murphy may seem a completely uninterested asshole...he kinda is, but deep inside, he's a total ball of mush, and a responsible, concerned citizen. 

Murphy, having witnessed the way a few of the frat-guys were eyeing us as we stumbled along, decided to follow us at a distance, just to make sure we made it to our dorms safely. Once he was sure we were not getting up off the floor, he decided to sit by us to keep watch; protect us from 'the wolves'. Because, lets face it, a lanky Murphy, most definitely, could not help us to our dorms, much less carry us. 

And that's how we awoke the next morning: hung over, stiff necked, confused as fuck and with some lanky, yet beautiful weirdo sitting next to us, silently sketching away...penises mostly...with charcoal...on the concrete floor, with all the seriousness of a true artist. After having explained why we awoke in such a state and to such a sight, he led us, both his ducklings (as we were baptized in that morn) towards much needed sustenance, in the form of breakfast at a diner serving 'the best fucking pancakes you'll find near campus.' 

We've been inseparable ever since. 

"Yes...no?" I sigh, "I don't know...I mean," I lower my voice to a whisper, because even though the music is on and I'm pretty sure Lincoln can't entirely hear us from the driver's seat, with the music (Luis, Gucci, Prada, yeah you know I got that fresh pussy...it was Octavia's playlist) and his hearing aid almost perpetually turned on low; however it does involve him, and I know my opinion on what happened is unpopular with him and Octavia...mostly Octavia.

"In all honesty, I think O. overreacted. I mean...I know Bellamy, and we were all young, and we were all pretty drunk, and/or high that night; we had just graduated, for crying out loud!" I throw my hands up as my volume rises with that phrase. Lincoln turns his head towards us at the sound, but turns back around once he realizes we're privately conversing. I lower my voice once again, "and I know him and Lincoln didn't entirely get along, but what happened was very clearly an accident. But Bellamy...well, he's Bellamy, and O. is O. She blamed him, he blamed himself, he couldn't deal with her blaming him, and she holds grudges like a pit-bull with a steak, and not the Mr. World Wide type...so he left." I pause looking over to Murphy, making sure he's listening, or at least able to make out my whispered words. 

"So he just left, just like that?" He whispers back, he's tone denoting true interest. 

"You have to understand, for a long time it had been him and O. against the world. He practically raised her. I mean, he was pretty stupid sometimes in the way he went about doing it, but he was a kid too, they're twins you know? But he took on the whole responsibility. She meant the world to him, and she expected the world from him, so her hating him...yeah, that was definitely a blow for him."

"Hmmm." 

"He's a sensitive guy you know?..was," I correct myself "I don't think people ever really realized that. He was the life of the party, the popular kid, the jock with all the money and no parents -we're not getting into that right now -, but he was a real good guy." 

"Sounds like he had it tough," Murphy responds pensively while looking at the embracing siblings. "Everything seems to be going well though," points to the twins. "Hmm. He's cute...and there's someone behind him too," he stretches his neck trying to see whomever is behind the embracing twins. 

"Yeah, O. mentioned Bellamy has a roommate. This outing is actually for her birthday; two birds with one stone?" I too stretch trying to get a look at the mysterious roommate, but all I can really get a look at is the glorious curve of an ass, hands suddenly being shoved in the back pockets, holding said ass; it's the kind of curve I'm sure mathematicians would die to study. And long, dark, wild waves blowing in the wind. Wait, there's wind? 

Bellamy pulls out of the embrace, arms outstretched, holding Octavia by her shoulders. They both say something that makes them laugh, and Octavia turns to us, motioning with her hand, that everything is ok, and we can now come out. 

Lincoln turns to us, nervous look on his face, "I guess this is our cue. Here we go..." he lets out a nervous puff of air. 

So we do. 

We exit the vehicle and begin our slomo-walk to the awaiting trio, and as we do, Octavia separates from the brunette she seemed to be introducing herself to. I finally get a glimpse at the mysterious roommate, I feel the breath sucked out of my lungs, because holy-mother-of-legs! 

I say, goddam! 

Suddenly the brunette looks over to us, tucking her hair behind her ear. Wind blowing wild curls...seriously where the fuck is that wind coming from (an echo of a distant 'chicka chicka')?

As I somehow manage to reach the (...slightly salivating?) brunette, Bellamy (...also salivating?) and staring-Octavia, I trip on my own feet and lose my balance, my slow-motion momentum sending me...slowly tumbling into the goddesses arms, making us both tumble back slightly. 

She tightened her grip on my arms.

"Shit! I'm so sorry..." I apologize, one hand gripping onto her waist for balance, the other splayed over her stomach...under her top?..fuck, she works out! 

"Umm...y-yeah, I got you," she softly reassures, voice low and lightly wavering. "I got you," she repeats with more confidence. 

I raise my head to thank her for catching me.

Green. 

So. Fucking. Green.

Hypnotism. I've always scoffed at the idea. I've seen it in magic shows, and on tv segments. But the idea had always seemed laughable. I mean, how can certain words, images, or actions performed make someone relinquish all control of their faculties and senses; it makes absolutely no sense. I've always said, it's just decent acting.

Yet here I stood, completely captivated. Having lost all my faculties at the vision of viridescent pools coupled with the feeling of tight abdominal muscles under my hand, and the sound of a low, sensual voice spoken through plump, kissable lips. I found myself suddenly becoming a believer, and not in the 'screaming Justin Bieber fanatic' way. 

Holy shit! I'm fucked! 

Hypnotism is fucking real! 

I try to move my lips, let words of gratitude fall from them...let any words fall from them. 

Nothing.

I look like a fucking fish, mouth opening and closing, unable to speak; eyebrows raised, and eyes bulging. 

And this gorgeous brunette, holding me tight in her strong arms, looking down onto my electric-blues, waiting. Moisture trikling down the side of her lip. 

Fuck, I don't care if she's special, she's a goddess, a queen, and I her loyal subject...I need to stop reading period-fanfic. 

I can sense everyone staring.

I'm still stuck in place, staring up at the gorgeous brunette, mouth working like a puppet's at the hand of a ventriloquist.

Get a fucking grip, Griffin. 

"Um...thank you...for...umm, saving life," I husk and run my hand currently resting on her abs, down her stomach (ok, a little too much grip, Griffin).

I feel her shiver and her eyes blink rapidly at the motion. 

I think I broke her...

"Okaiiii...so now that we've established which of us have absolutely no self control...and are hella gay" Octavia stares pointedly at me , the sexy-brunette and Bellamy, whom is currently giving Murphy mad 'heart eyes,' as she grips my upper-arm...hard (damn you Octavia and your freakish strength), and pulls me towards her, all while flashing a 'what the fuck am I getting into?' grin. 

 

That breaks me from the enchanted state those forest-greens had me locked in.

 

The brunette seems to also startle at the sound of Octavia's voice, and jumps back a little as if suddenly being woken from a dream. 

 

"So!" Octavia claps her hands together, "introductions. This is Clarke, Murphy," she points at each one of us.

"Hey," Murphy, all bored expression, directs his salutation to Bellamy with a tiny nod, which is very much his way of showing interest in Bellamy. Bellamy blushes and flashes a goofy grin, raises his hand to his chin to wipe the moisture from it with the back of his hand, then back up to rub the back of his neck. God, he's such a dork; hasn't changed one bit. 

I see the brunette follow Bellamy's gesture from the corner of my eye, as if remembering that she too needed some cleaning up. 

"And this handsome man is my Lincoln," Octavia grabs onto his arm with both hands, her face denoting pure adoration. 

Lincoln simply nods 

Bellamy nods as well in response, though with a bit of apprehension. I really hope things don't become too awkward between the two of them during this trip. 

"Hey man, it's great to see you again," Bellamy smiles earnestly at Lincoln and brings him in for a tight yet quick 'bro-hug,' back patting and all. 

"Hey, same...it's ah...great seeing you again too," Lincoln nervously parrots back. 

This trip will definitely be on the awkward side.

"Clarke..." Bellamy breathes my name, turning his attention to me, smiles nervously, eyes soft and shining, moisture threatening to escape his big brown eyes. 

Bellamy and I used to be really close, out of the group, him and I had always shared a special connection I've never found with anyone else, Murphy being the only one coming close. It wasn't a romantic connection, not at all, but more of a filial one, maybe going slightly beyond that. I got him, and he got me. We were each other's confidant. When he exiled himself from our lives, I think I was the one that took it the hardest, more so than Octavia. I felt like a huge part of me, of my history...just of myself in general, had left with him. 

I throw my arms around his neck and hold him in a tight embrace, letting all the emotions wash over me; letting the tears run freely, because, fuck, I've missed this huge dork. 

"I fucking missed you, Bell," I whisper onto his neck. I can feel my tears moisten his shirt, but right now I couldn't care less, I had been needing this for a while now. I had been needing my best friend. 

He chuckles wetly, I can feel his tears moistening my tank-top as well. "Ditto," he whispers back.

I step out of the embrace, taking him in with one long, last glance. 

I laugh with emotion. 

"Sorry, I just really missed this huge dork!" I pat him hard on his arm. 

"Hey, hey now, careful with the goods," Bellamy laughs, flinches away from my reach, and for a moment, everything feels light. An air of familiarity surrounding, as if no time had passed at all. As if our bond remained intact. 

"These guns are meant to be handled with care." He grins and winks while flexing the arm I had patted. 

"Pretty sure you'd have to actually have guns to actually be able to say that, Blake," the brunette laughs. 

She speaks!  
O, speak again, bright angel!  
For thou art as glorious to this night,  
being o'er my head,  
as is a wingèd messenger of heaven  
Unto the white, upturnèd, wondering eyes  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him...or something like that, literature was not my strong suit in college.

Shit, I'm staring again. 

"Lexa, " the brunette smiles and shakily extends her hand for me to take.

I wipe the moisture from my hands on my cutoffs and for some reason go for a fist-bump. Lexa closes her hand around my fist in reflex, and gives it a strong shake. We both just stared at our joined hands, dumbfounded. I see her ears begin to redden, though I'm not exactly better off (where's that wind when you need it?) with my cheeks heating up. 

We let go of each other's hands and chuckle in embarrassment. 

"Haha, that was so bad. Here," I try again, but the time she goes for the fist-bump and I close my hand around her fist.

We're a lost cause.

 

"Haha, shit! Yeah...yeah...that...that was not any better," I chuckle awkwardly. 

Lexa stares at our hands, cheeks and ears reaching a whole other level of red. 

I can sense Octavia staring at me from the corner of my eye, in that special, 'what the fuck is wrong with you, and I really want to fucking laugh right now' way that she has mastered over the years. 

We both retrieve our hands promptly. Seriously, one can only take so much embarrassment. 

"Umm...yeah..." I try, looking anywhere but at Lexa; I'm not in the mood to further embarrass myself. 

Lexa rubs the back of her neck. 

Octavia looks between the both of us and takes the hint.

"Ok!" She claps once again, "umm...so, I take it we're following you, Bell?" Points at Bellamy with both hands clapped together. 

"Hmm?" Bellamy turns to Octavia, effectively ending his creepy staring at Murphy (though Murphy doesn't seem to mind one bit), dazed look on his face. 

Lexa elbows Bellamy. Hard. 

"Oh," he startles, "yeah...yeah! You guys are following me. A friend is meeting us out there...so...follow me!" He ends cheerily as he pivots and walks toward his truck. 

Lexa throws a lingering glance at me and follows after Bellamy. 

I once again feel myself hypnotized by the sway of her hips and the swing of her glorious mane. 

"Hey! Romeo! You coming, or are you going to stand there and stare at 'dat ass' all morning?"

Fucking Octavia. 

I get in the Rover and slam the door, making sure Octavia feels it, then glare at her. 

"Don't look at me like that, babe," Octavia raises her eyebrow, "what the fuck was that back there?" 

"Fuck, O. I don't know," I whine. 

"You were so off your game, Griffin, like what the actual fuck? I've never see you like that."

"Did you see her O.? Girl has legs for daysssss! And she's a total babe," Murphy intervenes. "My little duckling never stood a chance," he coos while pinching my cheek.

"Oww!" I slap his hand away. 

We all share a laugh at that, even Lincoln with his hearing aid perpetually set on low. 

Bellamy's truck pulls away and we speed off after him to our new adventure...filled with long legs and a sea of green. 

I sigh and sit back. 

I'm so fucked. 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, there you have it. Short, but we are moving along, got most of the introduction's out of the way.  
> There's only a few more characters left to introduce.  
> I do promise a longer chapter next.  
> Fair warning: once these guys reach their destination, everything is going to move pretty fast.
> 
> aventure d'un sour = (as far as my understanding goes) French colloquialism for "One night stand"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Walks by whistling. Bends down to scoop up shiny object off floor* "Hey look, new chapter!"  
> This took forever to post because proofreading took the The Beautiful Baby Blob-fish ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Clarke is in the picture, there's going to be a lot of going back and forth between points of view.  
> Also, real, actual Clexa happens here. Hurray! *throws penises and boobs shaped confetti*  
> Hope you hate it!

**(Lexa's POV)**

"Uh...you ok?" Bellamy queries from the driver's seat of his truck. 

"So...that was Clarke." I state and it comes out a bit breathless.

"Yeah," he breathes. 

"...Are _you_ ok?" I eye him concerned. 

I mentally chastise myself, because I know this is the first time in years Bellamy is seeing, and reconnecting with his sister and, well his 'family.' I know this must be hard for him, regardless of how easy and smooth, the 'family' reunion went this morning, there's bound to be conflicting emotions. There's just so much that still needs to be addresses and dealt with. But rather than making sure he is ok, as his friend that I am (and I'd like to think that we are most definitely friends, as he is currently my _only_ friend); here I am daydreaming of golden hair, dark ocean-blues, and gorgeous legs dressed in tiny cutoffs. 

Bellamy keeps silent behind the wheel, staring at the dusty road. Harsh sun-beams creating heat waves ahead, so early in this morning, that give the scenery a wobbly character; as if it were a polaroid stuck inside molded-jello. The only true indicator of his emotions being the small crease between his brows and the purse of his lips. 

"It's ok, you know...if you're not, I mean," I try softly. 

His eyes shimmer with moisture he refuses to let spill past the ridges of his eyelids. 

I turn in my seat to better face him. 

"Hey...you know I'm here, if you want to talk...or if you don't, right?"

His lips turn into a barely there smile that trembles slightly, and he gives a small nod. 

"I love you, you know that, right? How can I not, you gigantic dork." 

And it's true, I really do love the guy. Bellamy and I may not do well in the 'voicing our feelings' department, but I never really felt it necessary. Bellamy just got me. It's like he knew what I needed when I needed it, and when to make his presence...well present. So really, I felt like I owed the guy the same curtesy, not because him, nor his action demanded I did; nor did he expect it, but because he had won over my trust and love. 

He chuckles lightly, "yeah, I know. Thanks...Lexipoo," he teases reaching over to pinch my cheek. 

"Eww. No. Don't call me that. You know what? Never mind, I take it back. I don't like you anymore." I cross my arms faking petulance turning forward in my seat again. 

Bellamy brings his hand to his chest, "you wound me, Lex." 

"Seriously, though, I'm here. I'm all ears." 

"You actually have tiny ears, Lexa." 

I roll my eyes and backhand his bicep hard. 

He flinches, "you're sooo violent, llleeeexipooo." 

There's a beat of silence that settles between us, as we both stare at the road ahead, watching the miles and miles of dry, dusty land and the orange-yellow rock formations blur by (he is yet to tell me where we're going, but judging by the route we have taken, and our surroundings, I have an inkling) as the air between us begins to thicken past the comfortable silence we were sharing seconds ago. And I just know he wants to speak; get things off his chest. So I wait in silence. 

Bellamy fidgets in his seat, thumbs beating a rhythm on the steering-wheel, knee bouncing, crease between his brows increasing. 

He opens his mouth once; closes it promptly, words failing to materialize into speech.

He repeats the process a few more times. 

"I guess...I guess I was sorta expecting more... fireworks?" he motions an explosion with his right-hand "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great that O. didn't, like strangle me," he chuckles nervously, " and like, Lincoln was so chill...but...I don't know..." the crease between his eyebrows deepening in thought.

"Were you expecting more of an emotional reunion?" 

"...um...well...yeah. Yeah. It's been years, Lex!" His voice rises with emotion as he bangs he steering-wheel with he palm of his hand, and it's like a damm finally breaking, years of bottling his feelings on the subject finally surfacing, "I had no one for yeeeears...they were out of my life for years. Lex, I was alone..." theres a moment of contemplated silence, I move to speak because I think him done. He throws a quick glance at me, as if debating something; he continues with a barely audible confession before I am able to speak, "Then you came along."

"Me?" I ask perplexed. 

"Well...yeah," comes his soft reply as he eyes me once again. 

"Why me?" I shake my head in confusion, "what I mean, is that you're a popular guy, everyone knows you, Bell. Everyone loves you. I mean, I thought you'd be at least a bit closer with a few of our coworkers, with the way you interact with them...why aren't you? Why me?" 

"Well...you saw me," he shrugs. "No one ever has. There's always been all these expectations for me, and believe me, I get it. We're like, working car insurance, yeah but, everyone expects me to keep up this image, this façade...you don't, you never have. I appreciate that immensely."

I swivel in my seat, fully facing a teary-eyed Bellamy. And for a moment I'm stunned, I never knew he felt this way. But he's right: I see how and who he is around our coworkers, or whenever we do go out to gatherings or bars, and how around me he is, well different. Everyone sees him as this cocky, confident, suave and charismatic guy; and yeah, he's definitely all those things, but he's also this sweet, huge dorky-nerd, who cares way too much for the well being of others, but also about his public image. And though that's great, that's also a little sad, because the Bellamy I get to see, is a little more balanced out. The Bellamy I get to see, is pretty great.

"Bell..." I try. 

He shakes his head, his dark moppy-hair falling over his eyes; he blows it away with a puff. "I really don't know what to expect on this trip, and frankly I'm a little scared," he confesses, effectively changing the subject. "And I'm so, so sorry that this had to happen during your bday trip...and also, and I know it's a little selfish, but I'm also kinda glad because if everything goes to shit with them...I'll at least have you...right?" He throws a quick, worried, pleading glance in my direction.

I nod quickly. 

"I don't want to be a negative-Nancy, or have all these negative expectations...but I really don't know them anymore. _They_ don't know me anymore. But I do still love them all...and dayum that beautiful man..." He stares off into the distance/road dreamily. 

Though I know his attraction for that Murphy guy was evident, I also know he's using the expression to deflect from the weight of his emotions.

"I really don't know what to expect...I just...I really don't." 

"Well, how about we just play it by ear?" I offer, "don't set any expectations, just let things play out organically, and if everything does 'go to shit,' I'm here. We'll pack our things and go celebrate my awesomeness somewhere else...and maybe steal that beautiful man you were drooling so hard over, you know? For you to play with," I wink with a sly smirk playing upon my lips. 

"Me?!" He asks indignantly, "Clarke literarily slipped on the puddle of drool you created while staring at the Kents."

I can feel the desert heat traveling up my neck and coloring my cheeks and ears. I hide my face in my hands and groan shaking my head. 

Bellamy laughs. 

"Nice boob-naming, by the way, very appropriate." 

"Breasts," I correct. "And thanks. I try," I throw back proudly, "what can I say? I'm totally a boob girl. I'm not even ashamed." I shrug. 

"They're called breasts. You're a grown-ass woman, Lexa Woods."

I stare at him speechless, then decide that glaring would be a more appropriate action, so I do while punching him hard on the shoulder. "You ass!" 

Bellamy throws his head back and laughs a deep and free laugh.

"Tell you what, Miss Woods: Clarke seems to still be pretty cool, and if everything does go smoothly, I'll put in a good word for ya,' she's bi you know?" He winks. "Just...don't try to fist-bump her next time, that's too 90's, Lex, you ain't hood enough." He wrinkles his nose. 

I punch him one more time for good measure.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**(Clarke's POV)**

"So, like, are we going to Coachella?" I channel the throngs of flower wearing, Coachella-worshipping-cult-girls. 

Murphy blows air out of his nose sharply and smirks, that's as close to a laugh I'll get. 

"Joshua Tree," Octavia answers excitedly while unbuckling and turning herself around in her seat facing both Murphy and I in the back-seat, "according to Bellamy." 

Murphy clears his throat, rests his elbow on the car door and extends his thumb and pointer finger over the side of his cheek. 

"Am I the only one worried things could, very likely turn really awkward and uncomfortable with him on this trip?" 

Octavia's smile drops immediately, but she says nothing and purses her lips in that signature Blake way. 

In all honesty, I had had a mini panic the previous night when the reality of finally seeing Bellamy again after eight-years had finally sunk in. Yes, eight. And even though I did profusely stalk his social-media accounts (guy keeps everything set in 'public') and time does really fly as you grow older; it's still been a fucking long time. 

Even though his and my interactions actually did end in good terms, I respected his self imposed exile and the fact that he seemed to really want, though I'm not so sure need, that time. After my first few attempts at contacting him and receiving radio-silence, I gave him his space. Though I did miss him, immensely, I really don't know this Bellamy. He doesn't seem much different from the one I used to know, if only more 'mature.' Still: I was not there for his failures and accomplishments; for his heartbreaks, for his conquests, for everything that shapes a person, I wasn't there. I just wasn't there. I know Octavia is thinking the same for herself. 

I glance at Octavia, waiting for a response from her, but her expression has now turned pained and the purse of her lips has tightened.

"The thought did cross my mind last night..." I confess, "but after going over everything last night...and all the guilt I feel at leaving him alone for so long...I...I've just decided to try and make this a positive experience?" And I hate the uncertainty that rings clear in my voice "...John...I just really want this to work out. He's family, and frankly, I miss the shit out of him." 

"Well, when you say 'John' I know you're mad serious," a side of his lips lift into a small smirk. 

Octavia is yet to say anything, and I really don't think she's ready to do so. Im sure she's letting the guilt, pain and regret wash over her. Regardless of how much blame she may have placed on Bellamy for Lincoln's accident; eight years are no excuse for abandoning family to their own devises, specially when that same person sacrificed so much, for so long for your well-being.

She blinks a few times as if clearing her vision of the memories playing before her, on some imaginary screen.

"Yeah, what Clarke said, lets just be positive and try to make this work," her voice sounding strained and of false cheer.

I know she's willing to try.

I'm not sure if Lincoln can't really hear us, or he's just being his usual quiet and observant self. If anyone should feel awkward with Bellamy's presence this weekend, it's him. But I know Lincoln is more of a 'forgive and forget' kind of guy. And he's also one to analyze situations and events from all different angles; I guess it's a useful tactic when you're trying to be an actor. So really, though I know these things, and I'm sure he's gotten over what happened between him and Bellamy, I can never be entirely sure. 

"We're like less than an hour away, there's a rest-stop coming up. Someone call Bellamy and see if they want to stop at a diner for breakfast," comes Lincoln's quiet response at my previous thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**(Lexa's POV)**

 

"Hey, can you answer my phone?" 

"Where's your phone?" I frantically search, prodding around the pick-up's seat with my long fingers, darting my eyes all around, scanning for the buzzing object. I even stick a hand under me, 'cause maybe I had sat on it. 

Bellamy's lips stretch into a mischievous smile, "It's in my pocket."

I glare at him, "why didn't you say that to begin with?"

"because it's more fun watching you panic-search for my phone," he shrugs, "it stopped ringing, so thaaaanks, Jan."

I slap his arm for the hundredth time this morning, "jerk." 

"Oww, so violent today, Lexipoo."

We hear the buzzing of his cellphone again. 

Bellamy throws me a pointed look. 

I roll my eyes and reach into his pocket, taking his phone in my hand.

"It's an unknown number, still want me to answer?" I know how much he hates answering unknown calls, as do I. I figure, if it's important, or if it's someone I actually know, either they'll text, or leave a voicemail. 

"Yeah, I only have O.'s number, so it could be any of them back there."

"Bellamy's phone," I sing-song in that signature car-insurance salesperson tone that has been so deeply embedded into my pattern of speech. It's brainwashing, I say.

"No...this is Patrick!" I hear a husky female voice laugh at the other end. I completely ignore her childish response, and god, she sounds even sexier on the phone...phone sex should be amazing with her; and just like that, my mind goes spiraling down into the gutter. Smutty images filling my mind. I was barely able to keep it together at introductions, even came off as a somewhat sociably-functional human being, but hearing Clarke's husky voice like this just does things to a girl. 

"...Lexa...hey, Lexa...you still there?.."

I suddenly remember I'm still on Bellamy's phone, and Clarke is still awaiting my answer, as her voice fades back into my attention. 

"...umm, yeah. Yeah...Bellamy asked a question as I was answering..." Bellamy throws me a quizzical look. "Sooo...waddup yo?!" My voice squeaks at the end. 

I mentally cringe. 

Bellamy is officially losing his shit.

I turn and glare daggers at the side of his head.

"Well...Biggy, 'waddup' is that there's a rest-stop coming up and we're starving, so breakfast?..'yo'"

"Hold on," I put a hand over the receiver, "they want to eat and there's a rest-stop coming up."

"I was actually going to suggest we stop there for breakfast, there's a good diner and you can't possibly have had enough with a scone and a coffee...I mean, the L.A. Zoo does have to offer you a sacrificial baby giraffe for your daily sustenance, to appease your hunger-driven-wrath."

"One: don't be dramatic." I lift my pointer finger, tacking off points. "Two: I do not eat that much," and I try to sound offended, but my stomach growls loudly as if on cue. And my two monstrous street-dogs from the previous night, and the medium pizza I ate all by myself soon after (with beers), are glaring examples of how I am easily able to down the whole of the L.A. Zoo...and still want street-tacos and a beer after. Mmmm, tacooooos. So maybe sacrificial baby-giraffe is definitely the appropriate term. I mean, I practically live at Smorgasburg on Sunday's from ten-A.M. to four-P.M., and consequently spend half my paycheck on delicious, greasy street food; conceive a massive food baby (Bellamy says I remind him of the mini-dachshund dog he had as a kid, when it ate too much and its belly would swell like a balloon, and it wouldn't be able to move for hours; sounds about right), and birth it sometime in the middle of the night...or die of food poisoning, which ever comes first; Monday mornings are such a gamble for me. God bless the _country_ of Los Angeles. 

He once again, throws a pointed look at my direction. 

I once again roll my eyes. At this rate, my eyes will end up permanently sticking in that position, mother's omen officially becoming true. 

"Tell them 'yes,' and there's a diner there we can stop at."

"Yup, Bellamy had actually planned on stoping at the diner there, so yes, breakfast is a go!" And I sound a little too excited as I say this.

'Breakfast is a go?' Jesus Christ, Lexipoo (don't call yourself Lexipoo)! Who even says that?

Clarke laughs again at the other end of the line and I feel giant, mutant-butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach. At least she thinks I'm entertaining. 

"Ok, we'll follow you...as we have been doing this whole time, ok yes, that's what we'll do, yes...follow you we will!" 

"Uh...yeah...see you there." I reply awkwardly and hang up quickly before things can get any more awkward. Throw the phone at Bellamy, and sit there, staring at the road ahead. Contemplating my existence as a human being and wondering how I made it this far in life with my blatant social ineptitude. 

Have I always been this way?

Was I like this with Costia? 

Wait, why am I comparing this with Costia? 

And then it hits me...quite literally on the side of the head in the shape of Bellamy's phone. Im sure I've fractured my head, I am tempted to ask Bellamy to stop the truck and check me for a concussion, skull fractures, severed head? Bellamy's deep laughter sounds off in the distance, and it's a very distant sound in the background of my thoughts, because right now, I've quite literally reached a true moment of epiphany. And haven't I been having plenty of those lately? 

I'm finally ready! 

I mean, I knew I had been ready to move on, since about half a year ago.

I had noticed it in the way Costia did not immediately come to mind when I saw or heard something she may have liked, or when I had news to share, or at night when laying alone in bed. Or just simply anything else pertaining to my everyday musings. Musing which were previously permeated with the essence of Costia. Most importantly, I noticed it in the way the, all encompassing, anger and pain over what she had done, was no longer anywhere near as intense; I mean, I did choose to forgive long ago (but only because I felt it a necessary first step), the healing came as consequence, however it was an expectedly slow process. 

I had not forgotten Costia, or what she had done, neither did I forget what she meant to me and what we had. I had, quite simply allowed myself the time and taken what were, my personal necessary steps in order to heal. And as I glanced towards Bellamy I finally understood just how big of a part he had played in all of this. 

Not for the first time in the past two days, I found myself being grateful for his presence. 

I can feel Bellamy throwing worried glances in my direction every so often. 

"You ok there champ? You left me for a second there."

"Yeah, I'm good," I sigh. "Hey, Bell?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything, being there for me and all, listening to my drunken confessions, knowing how to be a good friend." I look over to him, I can feel my emotions bubbling up in my chest and threatening to break free through my clear ocean-greens. 

"It's the very least I could offer. It's the very least you deserve. You'll always have it, you know? Even when you're being an embarrassing, dorky nerd." 

"Hey! You're one to talk...seriously though, thanks."

We share a sincere smile. 

"I think we've reached our emotional quota for the rest of the year, Lexipoo...I think we now have to work on airing out your Batcave? Getting someone else to diddle your skittle...that is not a telescope...or any other inanimate object." He grimaces. 

"For the millionth time, I was not humping the Telescope!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. 

I had gotten so caught up in my emotional speech, giving Bellamy thanks that I never noticed when the car had stoped in front of the diner. I had also failed to register the sounds of closing car doors and the crunch of approaching footsteps, though my passenger-window was wide open. 

"Who humps telescopes?" I hear Clarke's raspy voice question as I watch her grab onto the edge of my window and lean her head over into the car, effectively crowding my space. As she does, the scent of her perfume (Ange ou Demom le Secret; I've spent enough time fantasizing over that scent to know) inundates my senses, my brain temporarily freezes, while my heart-beat picks up speed, and I have to hold my breath. 

"Lexipoo," Bellamy throws me a quick mischievous grin, then turns back to Clarke.

I groan. 

"...here, has a telescope kink, " he shrugs. 

Clarke laughs and my heart stops. 

"I do not," I point a finger at Bellamy, "have a telescope kink!"

"Whatever you say, baby-gurl," Bellamy shrugs. 

"So, baby-gurl," Clarke rasps with half lidded eyes while slowly rolling that 'r.'

She immediately blushes, eyes widening in realization. She clears her throat and bites her bottom lip lightly, "you planing on eating in the car, Lexipoo?" 

I raise my eyebrow and level her with a look, "it's Lexa. Homeboy here has a death-wish."

I hear him scoff in the background. 

"Homeboy? And you've also used yo, in a sentence, so you sunny SoCal?" 

"Boston actually."

"Hmm...interesting," she brings her pointer finger to her chin as if in deep though, "well, the west coast is the best coast, so good call." She smiles warmly, and we both get lost in a lingering stare, that lasts longer than what is sociably acceptable between strangers. 

Bellamy clears his throat, "I think Leximus only likes us for our food, she eats the equivalent of a starving baby T-Rex."

Clarke lips quirk into a wide smile, then she laughs softly. 

I wish I could stop my heart from pumping blood vessels that burst into crimson across my chest, ears, cheeks...and probably butt-cheeks; I've seen a documentary, it was interesting. Bellamy likes to say that I was really only watching it for the nude women, he's so immature (the naked women were pretty hot though). I don't know what he was complaining about though, he sat down and watched the whole damn thing with me, I even had to rewind it and pause it so he could grab us some beers and order a large pizza per each. 

"Hey! You losers planing on eating outside?!," Octavia yells at us from where she is holding open the door to the diner, "It's hot as fuck, guys!" She whines. 

"Come on," Clarke says as she opens my car door and holds a hand out for me to take. Charming. 

I blush once more, but at this point it's hot enough outside that I can blame it on the heat. 

I take her outstretched hand, "uh, thanks."

I somehow trip climbing out of Bellamy's truck and land face first on the Kents, and my god: their firm yet pillowy softness completely exceeds my expectations. 

I'm not sure if the moan I hear next is mine or Clarke's, or both...but I wouldn't be surprised if it was mine. Suddenly the urge to motorboat becomes very real, and I have to actively trample it down. It's been a while, and fuck I just want to burrow my face into the soft warmth of the Kents and never resurface. Let the world think me dead! 

"Can't you two behave for like, two seconds?" Comes Octavia's disembodied exasperated voice from somewhere down on earth...erm, the diner's entrance. 

We both jump apart embarrassed and I quickly follow as the Kents breast boobily towards the diner and titty inside. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
**(Clarke's POV)**

 

I know I'm staring but I can't help myself. I am in fucking awe. How can a human being, the size of Lexa, fit so much into their body? I mean...how is this even humanly possible?! I'm kind of expecting a government agency to burst into the diner at any second and pull her away for experiments. Girl can fucking eat! And Bellamy is really not all that far behind.

I feel a sharp pain on my left shin. 

"You're fucking staring," Octavia loud-whispers through a grit-tooth smile. 

I clear my throat, "so, umm, Lexa, what brings you to Sunny SoCal, more importantly, what brings you to the cesspool that is L.A.?"

"Oh, um..." she looks quickly over at Bellamy whom is attempting to shove mouthfuls of French-toast into his already overstuffed mouth. Murphy doesn't seem to mind the undignified piglike noises Bellamy is making as forkfuls of sausage and eggs get shoved down his throat. It's the first time since they've been around each other that Bellamy is not creepily staring at Murphy. However, it's now Murphy's turn to stare in this mix of uninterested, yet dreamy, longing gaze.

Lexa turns her attention back to me after grimacing at Bellamy's eating habits, though she really shouldn't be one to judge after practically swallowing whole her first 'lumberjack' pancake meal. Yes, first. Even through all the maple syrup running down the sides of her mouth, and ketchup adorning her full, top lip, fuck she's sexy as hell. And why is this totally turning me on? 

"It's...a...mmm, well" she wipes her mouth with her napkin. "Long story short...long term girlfriend cheated on me, we broke up and I ended up driving to L.A." She casts her eyes down, and at first I think in sadness, but really she's just sadly eying her nearly finished, second 'lumberjack' meal: bacon, eggs and hash browns now completely gone. "Got a job at Allstate within a week of living in the city, and now I'm here." She looks up at me and smiles weakly as she pushes her remaining pancakes around with her fork, "I'm actually a writer, you know?" and the tone in her voice implies it was really not said to impress, rather more as a longing confession. She brings her hand up to tuck the hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. "I haven't written much lately, but I'm working on it." 

My heart breaks a little at the sad smile drawn upon her features. 

"I'm so sorry to hear that your ex was such an asshole," I try to lighten the mood.

She chuckles softly.

"Don't be, it was years ago, I'm pretty much over it," she shrugs and tries to sound nonchalant. 

"Glad you're writing again though. Written anything I might have read?"

"I...umm..." she lifts her arm and rubs the back of her neck nervously, "I mostly write sapphic poetry," she eyes me anxiously. 

I gesture for her to go on. 

"Have you heard of 'Love Songs For a Distant Moon?'" 

"Uh, no I can't say I have, but I really don't read much poetry, I mainly stick to mystery novels...actually, mostly fanfic honestly..." 

I hear hands slapping on the table, glasses full of juice and coffee rattle dangerously. Murphy half stands up in place in an awkward stance. He leans forward, hands on the table, his features contorted into childlike excitement (something I've never seen in him before). The piece of apple-pie Bellamy had recently shoved into his mouth falling back onto his plate as he looks up startled. When did he finish his French-toast and move on to the pie? 

The whole diner grows eerily silent, everyone is staring at us...which is really just the hostess and single server, plus the other three customers 

"You're _the_ Lexa Woods?" Murphy exclaims in excitement. I honestly thought he was too busy contemplating Bellamy to notice the surrounding conversations. 

"One and only. You heard of my book?" 

"Heard of it?!" He pulls a beaten and tattered book from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, which I think is ridiculous: it's too damn hot to be wearing a black-leather jacket. It's too hot to be wearing clothes, period...Lexa shouldn't be wearing clothes...focus, Clarke! Murphy hands Lexa the book with excited, shaking hands. Biggest smile I have ever seen, tugging at his lips. 

I have never seen John Murphy fan-girl so hard. I didn't even think he was capable of it. Hell, I did't even know he was a fan of anyone other than long-dead, famous painters.

"This" he slaps his free hand against the book, "...this right here is my bible," his voice cracks and tears begin to collect in his eyes, "I've read these poems a million and one times, it's gotten me through some pretty tough times," a tear rolls down his right cheek and he quickly wipes it away with his free hand, "this is a fucking masterpiece!" He hands her the book, "please, do me the honors, sign my copy?" He looks expectantly at her. 

Lexa looks completely taken aback, she stares at his worn out copy in disbelief then looks up to Murphy. "Ye...yeah, sure. Do you have a pen?" 

Murphy frantically pats his pants and jacket pockets, trying to find a pen, "anyone have a pen?" He pleads. 

"Here sweetie," the waitress smiles down at Lexa and hands her a pen. Where did she even come from? 

"Thank you," Lexa looks up at the waitress while taking the pen in her hand and smiles politely. 

"Um...whom am I making this out to?" She questions opening up the book and uncapping the pen. 

"John. John Murphy. Can you add, like a line or something? I don't know, something small?"

"Yeah sure, sure no problem."

She addresses the note to a John Murphy on the inside cover of the book, then pauses bringing up the tip of the pen to her lips pensively. A crease forms between her eyebrows as she taps the tip of the pen repeatedly on her bottom lip. She pauses once more and her eyes widen. She crunches over the book as her pen flies across the inside cover of the book, creating line after line.

"You know how many times I've used your poems to woo men?" 

Lexa laughs softly, and it's just the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. 

She stops writing, closes the book and hands it to Murphy. 

"You know, I'm surprised you've read it, poetry seems to be such a dead art nowadays..."

"God, you guys sound like wrinkly old men, talking about how back in your day, you had to walk fifteen miles in the snow just to piss," Octavia butts in playfully rolling her eyes at the two artists. 

"Hey, I think it's interesting and super neat," really, 'super neat' Clarke?! I mentally slap myself. "I think it's great that you're a poet."

"The poet," Bellamy and Murphy both say at the same time, they share a look and a smile at that, Bellamy blushes. Cheesus we're all a bunch of gay lost causes.

"Lexa Woods happens to be one of my, all time favorite poets," Murphy gushes.

"One of?" Lexa quirks a cocky eyebrow and smirks, and goddamit, I think that's my new favorite look. 

All Murphy can do is blush, but doesn't seem to be able to say anything. 

Octavia gasps, "oh my god, is the dark and broody, John Murphy actually blushing?" Everyone shares a laugh. 

"Should we head on out?" Lincoln questions. And all this time he's been quietly sitting by Octavia's side, eating in silence and observing our group's interactions. 

We each pay our bill and head out to our respective vehicles. 

Before I climb into Octavia's Land Rover, I round behind Bellamy's truck and I catch Lexa before she can climb in. A thought had been festering in my mind ever since the eyebrow quirk and has only grown more demanding with each passing second. 

I grab Lexa's hand and gently tug her toward me, "hey, Lexa?"

Lexa stumbles a bit, she startles when she finds herself inches from my face. 

Her eyes drop down to my lips. "Uh, yesyeah?.." Her voice drops and her eyes linger on my lips.

And just like that, all doubt dissipates. I place my hands on her cheeks and bring her in for a searing kiss. 

Time stills and all I can register is the electricity emanating from the soft press of her lips and shocking every one of my nerve endings. I slowly pull her bottom lip with mine, savoring the feeling of plump, warm, soft flesh between my lips as I slowly pull away, but not before flicking my tongue lightly against her bottom lip. 

She remains standing in place, eyes still closed. With a final lingering gaze, I walk away wordlessly and quickly climb into Octavia's car, click my seatbelt on and sit back heavily releasing a sigh, heart still pounding. 

"What's wrong?" Murphy questions with concern, eyebrows creasing. 

"I kissed her," I breath out, still dazed. 

"You kissed _the_ Lexa Woods?!" 

"Yuhum."

"Wow, that was fast," Octavia unbuckles and turns completely in her seat facing us, "Where'd you kiss her?"

"On the side of Bell's Truck," I smile a goofy smile, still in a dreamy state from the feeling of plump lips. 

Octavia rolls her eyes.

"No, I mean how wa..." Octavia begins when Lincoln interrupts. 

"She's Costa's ex."

"Uh...wut?" I ask confused.

"That's Costia's ex. The writer. She seemed familiar back at Bellamy's, and I've only really seen her in pictures. But once Murphy made his scene, I was sure. That's _the_ Lexa Woods, writer and Costa's ex-long-term-girlfriend." He eyes me through the rear-view mirror with concern. 

"I'm sorry" I shake my head lightly, "uh...what?" Comes my disbelieving response. 

Well fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it.  
> Haven't been to Joshua Tree in a while, so my memory is a bit foggy, though I lived nearby for a while, it was hell. And all my recent attempts at visiting the place have been thwarted, so we'll see how this turns out.  
> Slightly longer chapter, I just really need them to reach their destination already so the fun may actually begin.  
> Still questioning wether or not The Beautiful Blob-fish is actually proofreading these, or just saying she is *glares doubtfully in Spanish*  
> "breast boobily" line was actually borrowed from a BuzzFeed post on how Male writers write women characters, it was pretty entertaining.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been...way past 84yrs, but Im back (yay!)
> 
> Gang reaches their destination.  
> Intros are finalized...awkwardly.  
> More Clexa, hurray!  
> And chet starts going down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention in Chapter 5: Smorgasburg is an actual thing. It's set up Every Sunday, 10:00 A.M - 4:00 P.M in Downtown L.A., if you ever want to get the full, L.A. food-truck experience, definitely worth checking out. 
> 
> Also, just finished this, it has not been proofread...sorry for the multiple mistakes.  
> Hope you hate it either way!

(Lexa's POV) 

Nefelibata (Portuguese), Noun: One who walks on clouds; cloud walker. See also: Lexa Woods from the moment Clarke's lips touched hers (though honestly I think I may have always been this way). Never had I found myself submerged In such a state of daydream however, as I am now. I've found myself floating since The Kiss, and walking on clouds as I climbed onto Bellamy's truck. 

I haven't been able to come down from my heaven as of yet. 

I hear a faint murmur of words echoing in the distance; an annoying and continuous buzzing of sounds. 

Q-Lazarus' Goodbye Horses fades to the forefront of my attention, as the sound-waves inundate the truck's cabin and crash onto me from all directions.

From the periphery of my vision, I spy Bellamy, grinning and holding something up in his right hand. 

I turn to look at him quickly and his goofy grin widens, and I have to do a double take once my mind catches up to the image of a tube of chap-stick he's holding up in his hand, ready for application. 

Once he's sure he has my attention, which he does because, what is he even? He turns to look at himself in the rear-view mirror, with all the seriousness in the world; proceeds to apply the chap-stick on his lips, smacks them and parrots, in a deep and 'sensual' voice, while Goodbye Horses continues to play loudly in the background:

"Would you fuck me?" 

I stare perplexed, and blink a few times, having been caught off guard. "Uh...whut?"

"I'd fuck me hard. I'd fuck me so hard." 

He then proceeds to tuck his hand into the front of his pants, and I jump and grab his arm at lightening speed, now catching on. "Ew. No!" I laugh-scream, "I don't want to completely lose my vision, I already can't see shit without my glasses."

He laughs, a deep billowy laugh. 

I roll my eyes, "you're such a dork, Bellamusorous," I grin proudly at my name-calling abilities. "How do you even manage to hook-up with so many men and women?" 

"Hey! One: you cannot, like call me a dork then Bellamusorous in, like the same sentence," he levels me with a look. "Two: I'm just a gorgeous man," he grins, "and I'm charming as fuck." 

"Clearly," I state sarcastically.

He pauses for a second. "But tbh, hook-ups and relationships are two totally different things, Lex. I want something more in a relationship," he shrugs, "and I really haven't found it yet." 

I hum and nod minutely, because I really do understand, and I feel the same way. Except: where Bellamy needs meaningless hook-ups to pass the time while he waits for 'the one' (which I don't condemn, though I don't completely understand, but only because we're different personalities); I rather take the route of quiet reflection and focus on completely closing the cycle of a relationship, healing insecurities that may have been created during it, and reflecting on the why, before I move on to a possible next. We're just different people, with different views on sex and relationships. But I also know that Bellamy is careful with moving onto a relationship before being ready for one. As he stated, 'hook-ups and relationships are two very different things.' 

"Did you just say 'tbh'?" 

"Uh, yeah. But that's not important," he waves his hand "what's got you so," he gestures wildly at me with his hand, as he scrunches his nose. 

And that has me a nefelibata once more, my eyes acquiring a glassy, dreamy demeanor. 

Heart eyes. 

Heart eyes is what Bellamy calls that look.

"She kissed me, Bell," I breathe out dreamily. 

"Who? The waitress?" Nose still scrunched, "I didn't know you were into old ladies. But like, hey if cougars are your thing, I'm totally cool with it," he winks. 

"Clarke, Bell. Clarke kissed me," I let out a content sigh, slumping back into my seat. 

"Well, Congrats, champ!" He punches my arm 'lightly'

I smile over at him. 

There's a short, pregnant pause as he scans me over with slight worry. 

"So you think you're ready now?"

"What do you mean?" I question confused. 

"Well, when I first met you, you were pining over this Costia chick," he looks over at me, "drunk confessions," he states off my concerned expression. 

"How...much did I say in these 'drunk confessions'?"

"Not a lot actually. Other than mentioning Bertha," raises his eyebrows at me, "You were hurting over Costia, and that's pretty much all you talked about, how she like, cheated and broke your heart. And that you'd given her everything. You also talked about how you were like, a 'damn good' writer, not a car insurance, sales person," he glances at me and continues, "it prompted me to read your work. And you're wrong, you're not a good writer...you're a fucking great writer."

I blush profusely, "thanks, Bell." 

"So...Costia...Costia Greene?" 

"Uh, yeah. How'd you know."

"Look, this isn't really a big deal, and maybe really none of my business" he throws me a quick nervous glance. "But she seemed familiar: the way you described her and all. But I was drunk too, so I couldn't put my finger on it, and then I really didn't pay attention to it after," he shrugs. "If it's the same Costia Greene I'm thinking, then that's Lincoln's sister."

"Oh my god, that's why he seemed so familiar...fuck...so what does this mean?" I can feel myself begin to panic with this new piece of information. I really don't know what she said to her family about the breakup, and how I ended up looking in the end. For all I know, Lincoln and and her friends could think I'm this horrible monster that broke Costia's heart. 

"Look, she wasn't close with Clarke, if that's what you're worried about...or any of us back in the day, she wasn't even all that close to Lincoln. And we hadn't heard much from her when she left for college. I really don't know about now though...I just want you to like, be prepared, you know, just in case?" 

His eyes soften at my worried expression. "Hey," he says softly, "Clarke is clearly into you, and if you're interested, well then fuck it, Lex. Go for it. You deserve to be happy." 

"Umm...thanks, Bell?" And I know I sound so incredibly unsure, but I actually really am. I like Clarke, sure, but I'm now unsure how to proceed. So I voice it, "I just...I'm not sure what to do now..."

"Hmmm," Bellamy rubs his chin with his finger in thought. "Well, I'll tell you the same thing you told me: just like, let it play out, Lex. Go with the flow," he makes a flowing gesture with his hand. 

"You don't think I should tell her?" Wouldn't that be the fair thing to do? The last thing I want, is to put anyone in an uncomfortable position, and if they were friends at some point, she at least has the right to know we dated, right? 

Cheesus! What's wrong with me? It was just a kiss, and here I am already thinking of relationships. What if she's just interested in hooking up for the weekend, or even just once? Am I OK with that? Or am interested in something more meaningful?

"I'm sure if Lincoln's recognized you, he's probably filled them in by now. But if that makes you feel better, go ahead. Just...just don't overthink it. I know you." He throws me a pointed look. And he's right, I'm already overthinking things and spiraling into  
panic mode.

He's right. Just go with the flow. 

Just. Go. With. The. Fucking. Flow. 

Yeah. OK. That's totally doable.

 

We drive off the road we were on and begin trekking our way through the rugged desert terrain. Burrowing ourselves further into this hot desert, surrounded by huge rock formations. It's actually beautiful in a barren and solitary sort of way. There's a bit of a charged atmosphere all around that only seems to increase the further into the desert we drive. I can't really put a finger on what it is, but it feels somewhat magical; lends itself to reflection. 

We spot an old RV in the distance, that looks like something straight out of Breaking Bad (bitch)...or The Hills Have Eyes.

There's a few people waiting under the awning, sprawled on lawn chairs and sipping on beers. I recognize my co-worker, Raven and a woman sitting next to her whose face I can't really make out, dirty blonde hair obscuring her features as she's bent over a cooler, reaching for beer, I'm sure. Two other men are sitting around another cooler. 

As we approach the RV, the other woman's face becomes clearer, as she is now, lazily sitting up-right, sipping beer. 

God, why does she seem so familiar? 

Bellamy kills the engine, and turns to look at me, excitement making his eyes sparkle.

"We're here, Lexipoo."

I groan. He knows I hate that nickname. 

"Ready to have a fucking awesome time?" 

I smile nervously glancing back at him then turning to stare out at the new members of our group once more. 

My receptors begin to make connections as I pay closer attention to the group, recognition suddenly dawning on me, and my eyes widen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
(Clarke' POV)

 

"Hey."

My eyes lock with Lincoln's gentle eyes over the rear-view mirror. 

"Don't worry about it, I'm just letting you know because it's bound to come up at some point."

"So you know why they broke up?" Octavia questions him as I am still deep in thought. 

"All I know is that Costia broke up with her. I don't know the details though."

"We all know Costia though," I interrupt, mainly because I'm feeling a little defensive. Sure, we really don't know this Lexa girl, but so far she seems sweet, and really, Costia had always been a bit of a bitch (or asshole, if you don't like that word). And I really like Lexa, to what capacity? I'm not sure yet, however we have chemistry, and that's something I haven't found with anyone in quite a long time; or chemistry that palpable, in well...I never have before. 

Lincoln looks me over the rear-view mirror as if about to argue. Luckily Octavia cuts in. 

"No, I'm sorry, babe," she lightly touches Lincoln's arm, "but shes right, we all know how your sister is," she looks at him apologetically. And it's true, the fact that we still know nothing of her, and Lincoln hardly ever hears from her, let alone sees her, because she's just so busy with her career and cannot make time for a phone call or text, lets us know that not much has changed. 

Lincoln seems to deflate as he breathes in deeply, "yeah, you're right. She's just...she's my sister, but you're right." 

"I say, if you like _the_ Lexa Woods, which you clearly do, my baby duckling, just go for it," Murphy intervenes with some sound wisdom and a pinch on the cheek, which I promptly slap away. "Just use this trip to get to know her, if you're really interested in something with her, or if it's just lust, you'll know by the end." 

"What Murphy said," Octavia agrees, vigorously nodding her head. 

"Looks like we're here," Lincoln announces. 

It looks like a Mexican stand off. Our rover, Bellamy's truck, and this beat-up RV. The only people actually out of their vehicle seem to be those having arrived in the RV. 

Hmmm, I thought it was supposed to be a cabin. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Lexa's POV)

"Oh. My. Fucking. God. Is that _the_ Lexa Woods?!" Anya exclaims, making her way towards me and I become a little nervous and anxious because, isn't this a fucking small world (cue Disney ride's diabolical children singing). Yes, we were really close in high school, but then Anya moved on to college and my anxious self just never kept in touch. And then I moved as well, and it was just 'impossible' to keep in touch...I think, or at least that's what I tell myself. 

I laugh nervously, "Anya...haha, small world..." diabolical Disney children resume their song in my head at top speed. 

Remind me to never, ever, ride that nightmare inducing, god-forsaken ride. 

Everyone's just kinda staring at us, and neither Anya nor I make a move to close the remaining gap between for the expected awkward reunion hug. 

"You know Commander Woods, babe?" Raven asks surprised as she walks up to Anya and winds an arm around her waist. Hmm, interesting. 

"Commander Woods is it, now?" Anya's eyebrow perks as her lip quirks into a smirk. 

I bring my hand up to rub the back of my neck, I'm sure I have a permanent blush staining my skin. 

"Haha, _I_ don't even know how that happened."

Raven raises her eyebrow, "really, commander? The 'all work, no play' attitude. The 'I could kick you off the tower if you even question me' look..."

"We...have no tower...it's literally just the one floor..." I answer slowly, squinting my eyes at her.

Raven holds her hand up motioning that shes's not done.

"Come on, babe, leave her alone, she's about to kick _you_ off a tower."

I laugh lightly and shake my head, "It's uh, good seeing you again, Ann." I know I'm being awkward, but I really don't know how to proceed here, and I'm more than a little uncomfortable. 

Suddenly Anya pulls me in for a tight hug. 

"God, you're still as stiff as ever," she says as she holds me tightly and I struggle to breath.

"Wow, small world," Bellamy whistles.

(Diabolical children's song at double top speed). 

"Okay," Raven claps her hands together and she kind of reminds me of Octavia, "so you obviously know my girlfriend, Anya."

Anya beams at that. 

"And these, here delinquents are Jasper," moves to put an arm around a gangling guy with a five-o'-clock shadow, that gives us a tight-lipped smile as he waves awkwardly. "And this is Monty," she puts another arm around the Asian guy. 

"Hey," he does a little head nod.

"And this is Clarke, Murphy, My sister Octavia and her fiance Lincoln," he points to each, and this is really starting to feel like two gang leaders introducing their gang members to each other, we're just missing nicknames like, Smiley and Sleepy. 

"We can introduce ourselves, Blake," Clarke interrupts, "nice to meet you by the way. We have beers!" She ends excitedly as she walks around the Rover to retrieve the cooler, I'm sure contains only beers. I too am exited at the announcement, because having Anya and Clarke, plus a coworker for a weekend is bound to be interesting and awkward for me, not being able to gauge who to give how much attention, so alcohol: yes please! 

"And we have tequila. Lots of tequila!" Raven announces with a too wide, devilish grin. 

"And moonshine!" Shouts Monty excitedly. 

"Why is moonshine always your drink of choice? That stuff tastes like rubbing alcohol." Raven grimaces, as do I. The last time I had 'real' moonshine, the name 'Bertha' was uttered and consequently murdered and buried. I also threw up hot-dog and alcohol all over the couch...drenching my hot-dogs in Tapatio hot-sauce was not a good idea that day. Needless to say, my throat burned for a week and I had no need to purposely drop my voice two octaves every time I said, 'Allstate.' 

"I dunno, that's just the way I'm always written, I'm supposed to drink and provide moonshine," he shrugs. 

"And I the weed," Jasper pulls out a baggie full of weed seemingly from thin air. 

This will most definitely be an interesting weekend. 

"I have coffee?" I raise my hand awkwardly. 

"You would have coffee, Woods," Raven squints her eyes at me in a playful glare, and I laugh. 

"Uh...hey Lex," Bellamy calls from the back of his truck, where he's pulling out our camping gear to set up. 

"Yeah, what's up?" I question as I reach him. 

"So here's the thing," and this already doesn't sound good, "I forgot your tent...outside...leaning on the stairs." He finishes sheepishly. "But hey, if you want, we can totally share."

I turn to look over at the tiny tent he's currently holding in his arms. I know it's tiny 'cause we went camping out in Big Bear, it was nice, totally loved that place, but his tent is most definitely tiny. There is no way I'm sharing that with him and risk touching things. Bellamy is notoriously a nude sleeper, bikini-underwear is the closest he gets to covering up. So at that close proximity, yeah, limbs will most likely wind up touching things. 

"I'll share with you," Clarke suddenly intervenes now standing next to me. 

"Um...no. It's, it's totally OK, I can always sleep in the truck's cabin." 

"Don't be ridiculous, come on, my tent is big enough for both of us," Clarke's voice has suddenly dropped and acquired a sexy, husky timbre, as her body is now closer to mine, though not exactly pressed to mine yet, both hands holding on to my upper-arm; her eyes focused on my lips. 

My brain suddenly turns to mush (It's a Small World sung at top speed...wait, why?) 

"Uh...uh..." I stammer, and that's all that manages to leave my lips, other than the tip of my tongue darting out to moisten my suddenly dry lips, as my vision is suddenly glued to pink flesh. 

"So I'm guessing they're gay too," Ravens voice suddenly breaks our trance. 

"Oh, Woods? Yeah, you have no idea," Anya laughs, "she once tripped while staring at the cheer-leading captain's bouncing boobs as they rehearsed their routine," laughs and gasps for air once, "and fucking rolled down the bleachers." Anya is officially loosing her shit trying to recount the story.

"She tripped _on_ my boobs earlier today, I thought she was going to remain there for the rest of the trip," Clarke shamelessly offers. 

Okay, _now_ Anya is officially losing her shit, bent over, slapping her knees and gasping for air. 

Raven and Bellamy are not anywhere near better off. 

I officially resemble a chameleon, with my face turning different shades of red. 

"Hey. Leave, _the_ Lexa Woods alone. No one stands a chance against Clarke's Good Earth Cleavage, not even _the_ great Lexa Woods here," Murphy points and winks. 

Everyone resumes their laughter. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


(Clarke's POV)

 

The sun dips low, painting the sky in an orangey glow, bleeding into pinks, yellows and purples, spilling over the horizon and casting shadows upon the rocks and the scarce, desert vegetation. A breeze begins to settle, cooling our sweaty, overheated bodies. The buzzing of insects melodiously ringing In ouR EARS! All of us drunkenly content, sprawled on lawn chairs and the one big blanket, someone threw on the floor. Busy catching up at intervals with this or that person. I've come to discover that Anya and Raven have actually been dating for a little over two years, and Anya kinda reminds me of a slightly less shy version of Lexa...angrier looking too. Monty and Jasper are real sweet and goofy guys, and are roommates, and they actually went to college with Raven. I've spent quite some time getting re-acquainted with Bellamy, and have come to discover just how much I've missed. Octavia has been 'subtlety' avoiding Bellamy, I know she's really just nervous, and Bellamy has definitely noticed. For the most part though, I've been focusing my attention on Lexa, getting to know her...she's obsessed with coffee, space and food.   
This has, so far, been a great day.

Though honestly, the charged feeling the atmosphere had initially carried as we exited our vehicles earlier this afternoon, has only intensified. I'm not entirely sure anyone else has felt it, at the very least no one has mentioned it, so maybe it's all in my head. And though I'm incredibly content, surrounded by this group of misfits, I'm also slightly uneasy and my gut is lightly twisting in knots...I chalk it up to too much beer and chips. 'Party Animal Griffin' had long been forgotten, I guess today is as good a day as any for her to make a come-back. 

"Who wants to play a game of...spin the bottle?!" Jasper slurs excitedly holding up an empty bottle of beer, and I'm not really sure I want go play spin the bottle with him, also, I'm too damn old to play that, so I let them know. 

"Aren't we too damn old for that?" 

"What? No!" Raven throws her hands up, "no one's ever too old for spin the bottle."

Anya crosses her arms, quirks her eyebrow and levels her with a look. 

"Relax, I have Cards Against Humanity," Murphy whips out his deck. 

"Yeah...I think that's better then spin the bottle," Lincoln slowly answers sounding relieved. 

"You guys are laaaaaaame," comes Jasper's boisterous reply. 

We all make our way to sit around the cards on the blanket I'm sure comes from Costco 'cause it's huge, and I'm also wondering how much it was and whether it's still available. Some grabbing more drinks on the way. Jasper had been working on a makeshift bong and was now preparing it for use. 

As we are all finally sat, and Murphy begins explaining the rules, Jasper takes a hit and passes it on to Monty, whom also takes a hit with no second thought, and the bong gets passed around. Lexa coughs a little when it's her turn but otherwise takes it like a pro, which tells me she's probably not as stiff as she comes off. No one coughs as much as I do though, because one: I haven't done this in ages and two: fuck is this some strong shit. 

The game goes on and everyone is pretty much wasted, and with all our merriment, Lexa somehow has been inching closer to me, 'till the sides of our bodies are now pressed together. 

I still can't shake the eerie feeling, and I can't quite place it. 

I suddenly feel a warm weight on my left hand, currently resting on the floor. I look over to see Lexa's hand comfortably resting over mine, as I look up, my eyes lock with Lexa's dark green, half lidded eyes; it may be the alcohol, or even more so, the weed, but I think I spy pupils blown wide, threatening to drown my own. 

Suddenly my mouth goes dry at the sight, as those viridescent pools cast down and lock upon my lips. I catch a glimpse of tantalizing pink muscle moistening plump flesh. 

Her lips begin to move in a pattern telling me that I'm being spoken to, but I cannot hear anything other than the wild drumming in my ears, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. 

She suddenly grabs hold of my hand and pulls us up, and begins to walk away, my hand tucked in hers.

"We're sshecking out...stufft...we'll be back," Lexa slurs over her shoulder as we begin making our way behind the RV and further away from where we're camped. 

I feel myself floating along behind her. 

That must've been some strong shit. 

"Yeah, mmhhmm, sure you are," Raven throws us a sly wink as I look back, a blurry Octavia furiously making out with Lincoln; Murphy and Bellamy seem close to the same. 

"Uh...I have to pee..." I hear Jasper say loudly then the crunch of rocks and dirt as, I assume, he begins to walk away. But by this time I'm no longer paying heed to what's going on behind me. It's not like I really was anyway. 

As we reach the face of some giant rock formations, I feel myself being spun around, and it feels like my whole world is spinning out of its axis before coming to an abrupt stop as my back is harshly pressed against the face of the boulder. 

I catch a glimpse of our camp, and it seems a tiny spot in the middle of nothingness. I'm sure it's just my high screwing with my depth perception. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Lexa's POV)

Fuck. 

Whatever courage the alcohol and weed had given me had now definitely left me, and Clarke is looking very disoriented...and so, so very sexy. I think she's really baked.

Shit. 

I cup Clarke's cheeks with both hands in concern, "shit, you're really baked. How high are you?"

"...um, Lexa?..I think you're really high, you're holding on to the boulder and asking it how high it is..." Clarke is standing a few inches away from me, leaning on the boulder I was 'holding on to,' arms crossed and brows furrowed in worry. 

I move over pressing the side of my arm against Clarke's, as I lean my back on the boulder and throw my head back.

Shit I'm baked.

"Fuck. What am I...what am I..." and the point of my sentence escapes me each time I commence it. 

Clarke turns around now facing me and runs her fingers through my hair, "dark hair," she cups my cheek, "pale skin," and I'm now staring intensely into her blue orbs, my breathing picking up. "Wild Cats!"

I shake my head and blink a few times, startled, "what?"

"Shit. I don't know where that came from."

"I think we're too baked to do this," I state, trying to be noble. Trying really hard, because right now all I can think of is tasting Clarke's lips once more, and I can't seem pull my gaze from them. It's as though her lips were magnets drawing me in, and I can feel myself slowly leaning in. 

"If we weren't, wouldn't we be doing this anyway," Clarke husks lowly. 

That's all it takes. 

I take Clarke's lips in mine and drag her bottom lip slowly, because as high as I may be, even high-me wants to savor this moment. 

She moans lowly and my stomach drops and an aching desire takes over me, spreading trough my lower belly and to the apex of my thighs, like a wild and hungry beast.

I feel Clarke's tongue seeking entrance and I eagerly grant it, the kiss immediately deepening. I break way from her lips and begin to blaze a path down the column of her neck, nipping and soothing away with my tongue. The high amplifying every touch and every physical reaction, her sent and her taste making me dizzy. 

Her hands wind around my waist bringing my body impossibly closer to her, one of my knees presses between her legs and I hear a breath catch in the back of her throat. My hands working their way up, under her shirt towards the Kents. I pull my head back as my fingers reach the underwire of her bra, pausing a second, silently asking permission to touch. With an almost imperceptible nod, she grants access to the Kents, and without further hesitation, I push up the cup of her bra, swipe her left nipple with my thumb and she shudders. She cups my face with both hands and pulls me in for a frantic, messy kiss, all tongue and teeth, and I press my thigh into her once more, stealing a mother little noise from the back of her throat. That's encouragement enough for me and my long fingers quickly make their way down to undo her shorts, fingers fumbling with the zipper for a quick second. I moan the moment my hand makes contact with the damp fabric of her underwear as I cup her pussy. Clarke throws her head back in pleasure, and I hear it thump heavily against the boulder. I pull her underwear and shorts down enough to grant me enough room to comfortably move my fingers as I then drag a finger through her warm, wet folds and we both shiver at the contact, Clarke letting out a full on moan at the feeling. I begin to draw small circles around her clit, setting a slow pace, both our breaths coming in in shallow gasps.

"Fuck Lexa...yes, fuck me," she breathily begs and moans.

Everything feels incredible.

Honestly, I had not expected things to escalate so quickly when I asked her 'why she looked so blurry?' before grabbing her hand and pulling her along with me. My sole intention was to look for the source of the blurriness, but then Bertha (my vagina) took over all my thinking process, which admittedly wasn't even really working at this point, with my being high as a kite (god, you're so fucking old, Lexipoo).

Suddenly, I feel all the little hairs in the back of my neck stand up, my skin breaks into goosebumps and begins to feel uncomfortable. It feels like when you have a fever and all of your skin aches at the slightest touch. My mind is no longer in this moment, but fixated in the uncomfortable feeling; I loose the rhythm I had set, and I begin to pull away.

Clarke whines and lazily opens her eyes, slightly dazed and very much confused, "Why did you..?"

We hear a sudden loud screech, between the sound an animal would make and a human screaming 'bloody murder.' I know there are coyotes here, but I've heard coyotes before, and this does not sound at all like one.

The strong scent of sulfur fills my nostrils, and I become nauseous. I feel like vomiting all the alcohol and hot-sauce drenched chips I consumed earlier.

Clarke begins to gag, "Oh fuck. Shit, Fuck. What is that?"

Everything feels eerily still. There's absolute, static silence, not even the bugs' previously annoyingly buzzing in our ears can be heard. Beyond everything however, there's this heaviness that's settled in the atmosphere, dark and all consuming, making it a little hard to breath.

There's that screech again, and Jasper's piercing, blood-curling scream echoes throughout the still silence, bouncing off the rocks, sending shivers down my spine.

Chaos can be heard from our camp: yelling and screaming and the frantic rustling of feet, which lets me know, we really weren't that far away from the rest of the gang.

I'm scared shitless!

I can see Clarke frantically trying to pull her underwear and shorts up, as her lips move rapidly forming inaudible words, her face pale and her eyes bulging. Terrified.

She grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me furiously, lips still moving. She looks like she's about to cry.

I can't hear anything past the buzzing in my ears.

I know I should be moving. Reacting in any way, but I am completely and utterly frozen in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, this was a lot shorter than I thought it'd be.  
> I know this took forever...hibernation went on longer than expected, but Chapter 7 is already underway, so hopefully it'll be out in the promised week/two-week time frame.  
> As always, your opinions and comments are very much appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, take it!   
> Shit's up, yo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens.  
> Hope you hate it.

"Lexa." I shake her shoulders vigorously, once more, though I was really going for a light shake but I'm currently unable to gauge my strength, "fuck!...Hey Lexa." I feel like I want to cry: I'm really high so my emotions are all out of wack, and there's that deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I've really fucked up and I know it, the prickling feeling on my skin still very palpable (I wonder if I'm the only one experiencing these things?); I don't know what to do and what the fuck is that smell?!

Everything was fine. Great even. Fucking amazing. And then, what I assume are fucking coyotes and then, fucking Jasper was most likely freaked out by one. I mean, come on! We're all fucking high and drunk as shit, and Jasper has probably taken more hits than anyone. 

Yes, the animal screeching and the screaming startled me, that coupled with this nauseating stench and the heavy feeling all around: yeah, it definitely freaked me out a bit. But nothing freaked me out more than Lexa's reaction, her freezing and seeming inability to breath; the blank, wide-eyed, glassy frightened stare, and I can feel her slightly trembling and not from our previously interrupted activities, her skin feels cold, even though it's sweltering out here and we're all pretty sweaty and sticky.

I'm at a loss. 

I spot a shirtless Bellamy making his way towards us. Eyebrows scrunched in worry, lips pursed and staring straight at us. I shake Lexa once more, because I really don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here, then throw Bellamy a helpless look. 

Bellamy' eyes widen as he spots what's going on between us and begins jogging towards us, reaching us pretty quickly because apparently, we're not really all that far from our camp. 

Shit.

A blush begins to spread from my neck, to my cheeks, to my ears. I really hope no one was aware of what we were doing. 

"Hey, are you guys okay?" He looks over at Lexa and concern takes completely over his features and actions and I'm transported back to when we were kids and he'd comfort Octavia for one reason or another. He gently takes Lexa's cheeks between his big hands and begins to softly caress her cheekbone with his thumbs. "Hey Lexi," he gently coaxes, "hey, look at me baby girl, can you do that for me?" 

Lexa's eyes lose a bit of the glassy demeanor and she blinks slowly a few times, her eyes lock with Bellamy's. 

He smiles a wide and soft smile, "hey, there you are," he whispers softly and places a hand over her heart. "Follow my breathing, Lexi," then he takes a deep breath, releases it, repeats the process a few more times until Lexa's breathing matches his. "Hey you," and the way he's looking at her, like the big brother protecting his little sister, reminds me of when he'd comfort _me_ after a bad breakup, or a scraped knee, the parents fighting..:list goes on; makes me wonder why we let one mistake fling him so far out of our lives for so long. 

Lexa's eyes water and she hugs Bellamy tightly, burying her face on his chest. 

"Fuck," comes her muffled and wobbly voice from where it's pressed to Bellamy's chest. "I'm so..." she shakes her head. 

"Hey, no. It's okay, we were all a little startled," he shrugs and she separates from him, covers her face with her hands and shakes her head once more before heavily dropping her arms to the sides of her body. 

"So...do you know what that was?" I finally speak up, starting to feel a little uncomfortable just standing there, witnessing this private moment and not knowing what to do. 

"Jasper got startled by a coyote or something," theres a slight tinge of annoyance in his voice. "Raven and I had started a fire and we were heating up some hotdogs, when we heard him scream and then he burst through the camp, knocked some alcohol and stuff over, stepped into the fire," he sighs deeply, "...just a huge mess," throwing open his arms wide to motion just how big of a mess.

"Did you take out my grill for the dogs, and the bacon and stuff I brought for 'em?" Lexa's panic attack seemingly now forgotten at the mention of food, her voice and eyes hopeful. She looks like a kid on Christmas morning.

Does this girl ever stop eating?

"you guys brought a grill?" I question because it didn't seem like they actually brought much. 

"Lexa," Bellamy throws Lexa a playful glare, "made a makeshift grill from one of the kiddy store-carts she found lying on a sidewalk." He laughs, "you should have seen her."

Lexa groans and hides her face in her hands again, "please don't tell the story," she laugh-begs and I'm so glad things are back to normal. 

"She went out for a run one morning, and it'd been raining all night, and you know it tends to flood a bit," he pauses to laugh, "a car passed by, splashed water and grime all over her," he laughs harder, "so now she's all pouty, looking like a homeless woman, she spots the cart, and," he's laughing hysterically now, "and...and...haha, oh shit! And she fucking hauls it to our apartment and up the three flights of stairs."

He's officially dying, and I can't help but laugh as well at the image Bellamy painted of a filthy Lexa, all pouty and dragging a kiddy cart. 

"Watched the whole thing happen out the window while I was drinking my coffee."

Lexa's pout deepens, and she looks so fucking adorable, but she can't seem to keep up the charade and she too laughs. "Hey!" She points at Bellamy one of those long, talented fingers and my mouth goes dry at the memories. "Tell me they're not the best street dogs you've ever had?" 

"You don't exactly make them in the 'da skreets,' plus, they're missing that hint of salmonella." Lexa backhands his arm and Bellamy laughs some more. 

"Let's get back to the rest of the gang or Jasper will probably start thinking we were eaten by the giant, hairless coyote." 

"Is that what he saw?" I ask slightly uneasy. 

"that's what he says, but he's also really fucking high," Bellamy shrugs as we start walking back to the RV. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

(Lexa's POV)

 

Jasper is clearly a bit shaken when we get back to the rest of the gang, huddled close to the rest, his eyes wide and frightened, shirtless and shoeless as well for some reason. Monty is trying to comfort him, one hand on his shoulder, massaging the area and telling him he'll be okay and that it was just a coyote. 

"No man. You don't understand," he shakes his head, "it was fucking huge, and hairless...what...what fucking coyote is hairless and the size of a fucking football player?!...And the stench!" He cries and his eyes water. 

So I wasn't the only one that noticed the stench.

"Hey," Monty soothes, "It's ok, you're really high, it's probably just your regular coyote." 

Jasper shakes his head violently. 

"Either way," Anya cuts in, "we should stay alert just in case."

"No..." Raven shakes her head slowly and points at Jasper, "he's on to something."

"Raven..." Anya warns. 

"No, it's true. C'mon y'all, huddle 'round the fire, I'm gonna school y'all on some Joshua Tree legends," she motions for all of us to get closer around the fire as she sits closer as well. It's pretty dark out now and the fire casts an eery glow upon her countenance that I'm sure shell take full advantage of.

Anya looks at her worriedly but seems to decide to let it go and simply shrugs in the end, following suit. 

"Cuenta la leyenda, que bajo el resplandor de una luna pálida," her voice drops theatrically.

"According to legend, under the shimmer of a pale moon..." Anya begins to translate without missing a beat.

"Se puede escuchar los lamentos y aullidos horripilantes, y desgarradores de una criatura infernal," she punctuates her last words and looks around. 

"You may hear an infernal creature's loud, horrific howls and moans," Anya looks to Raven and she nods solemnly.

"Why...is...she...saying this in Spanish?" Lincoln questions slowly. 

We all shush him, because this is pretty entertaining. 

...We may all still be a little high. 

"Silencio!" Raven commands. 

And we all know that means for us to shut the fuck up, so we do. 

"Si el olor a azufre y muerte penetra tu sentido del olfato, los pelos se te ponen de punta, la piel se te eriza, y sientes una oscuridad sofocante...corre! Escóndete! No mires atrás, por que a lo contrario, la próxima vez que la gente te vea, no serás tú al que vean!" 

"If the smell of...what's azufre, babe?" Anya stage whispers. 

"Sulfur," Raven stage whispers back, only slightly turning her head in Anya's direction. 

Anya clears her throat. Clearly, they've done this before. "If a sulfuric stench of death," Raven turns to Anya and smiles proudly at her change of wording for translation purposes, "penetrates your olfactory senses, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, your skin goosebumps, and you feel surrounded by a suffocating darkness: Motherfucker, run! Hide! Because if you don't, the next time anyone sees you, it won't be you they'll be seeing." She looks pointedly at all of us in warning. 

"Wait, wait, what does that have to do with what I saw?" 

Raven raises her eyebrow and levels him with a look that says 'really, motherfucker? Have you not been listening?'

Octavia turns to Jasper, "she just...did you not...where you not paying attention?"

"Well...yeah...I just...sorry," he shies. 

"No." I interrupt, "he's right, I mean, what is this thing supposed to look like?" 

"It's supposed to be some kind of humanoid cryptid," Raven begins.

"It's supposed to be some kind of humanoid cryptid," Anya cuts in, still in full on theatrical narration mode. 

"No, baby," Raven lightly touches her arm, "I'm speaking English now."

"Oh. I got a little caught up in translation mode."

"So it's supposed to be this humanoid, bipedal creature, but like bigger than your average Joe." She shoves half a huge hotdog into her mouth and my mouth waters at the same time as my stomach growls. 

Clarke levels me with a look that says 'really? Again? 

I look right back at her with a stare that says, 'munchies, duh.'

"And it's skin is pale and human like but kinda wrinkly in places," Raven continues. "Some people say it has horns, others that it doesn't, others say it has really long limbs." Raven shrugs, "depends who tells you the story, or who's green-text-story you read on 4chan. But! They all agree, that if you get caught by one, it'll either take over you...or morph into you... I don't know exactly how that goes. Point is, it won't be you and no one will know what happened to the real you, if they can even tell you're not the real you, that is."

Snaaap! 

We all jump at the sound of a twig snapping and Raven cackles. 

"Hey, Jasper? I think we should share a tent," Monty suggest after swallowing thickly in fear. 

"Yeah, I think that's best," Jasper vigorously shakes his head. 

"It's just a legend you guys. Some stupid creepy-pasta someone made up, it's probably just a coyote," Lincoln reasons. 

Right. A story made up by the internet. That's definitely what it must be. I try to reason with myself. But I'm still a little iffy. 

The sudden smell of hotdog fills my nostrils and I quickly forget all about the creature. It's then that I realize that the horrible stench we smelled earlier is now completely gone...or we've gotten used to it. 

"Hey, you guys smell that?" I question. 

"Yeah, it's hotdogs and I'm starving," Clarke responds all while placing a hand on the small of my back under my shirt and my skin breaks into goosebumps. Fuck, will I ever get used to her touch? 

 

It's a beautiful night out; still incredibly hot, though theres a slight breeze that makes it a little more bearable. It's pretty dark out here, what with the lack of population and city lights, the only real light coming from the fire Bellamy and Raven built. But the full-moon is huge and bright, and the sky is the deepest blue I've ever seen, with bright stars splattered across it. And the clean desert air, the smell of smoke and hotdog, the laughter of our company (Jasper now seemingly having forgotten his earlier encounter with the hairless-coyote). Yeah, this is by far the best birthday I've ever had.

We all scarf down a decent amount of hotdogs, chips...a frozen (no longer frozen 'cause of the heat) pizza someone brought (probably Jasper), more chips, some Twinkies, brownies Monty had brought...that I'm sure contain pot, judging by the mischievous smirk he gave me when I shoved a whole one in my mouth; and more beer. 

Even with the munchies, I'm stuffed and just ready to pass out. It seems like everyone is on the same wavelength as we all begin to clear the area of all the food and junk we'd brought out and placing things back where they belong, because Anya and Raven are staying in the RV and 'don't want the mess in there.' 

After we all take care of our nightly routine, as best we can without running water or toilets, we all head on to our respective tents, Clarke beating me to hers as she was first in finishing her routine. 

I begin to head on to our...erm, Clarke's tent, when I suddenly feel Bellamy's hand on my shoulder, stoping me in my tracks. 

"Hey," he whispers, "you ok?"

"Um...yes? Why wouldn't I be?" I question confused at his concern. 

"It's just...from earlier..." he trails off uneasy.

"Oh," realization suddenly dawning on me.

"Yeah...do you like...wanna talk about it?"

"Umm...fuck, it's so embarrassing..." I bring a hand up to profusely rub the back of my neck out of nerves. Bellamy does the same. 

"It's just...I got really freaked out and Clarke and I were..." I try to hand gesture what I'm trying to say, pretty much just awkwardly clapping my hands in different positions. I can see Octavia stop in her tracks as she's heading into her tent to see what I'm doing. I don't even know, this is so not easy. 

Bellamy nods confused a few times, arms crossed over his chest, then his eyes turn comically wide, "oh...Oh!"

"Yeah..." God this is awkward. "I got freaked out, and I have a tendency to freeze and go into a panic attack...the intensity depending on how freaked I am. It's just," I shake my head, "it's been like this since I was a kid."

"Hey, I know this may not help, but like, it's worth a try. Maybe, imagine yourself beating whatever is scaring you? Or like, imagine you're stronger than it, because I'm sure you are, Lex," he gives my arm a gentle squeeze. 

"Yeah, I guess I could try," and it's a very simple suggestion, childish even, but it's worth a try. 

"Well then, now that we're done with this heart to heart..."

"Are you okay?" I interrupt, "with...you know," I motion to Octavia and Lincoln's tent.

"Well, we like, really haven't talked much." He pauses and purses his lips in thought. "I think she may kinda be avoiding me. We've talked, but it was short, and very superficial...like we're strangers...which I guess we are."

I squeeze his upper arm right back, "hey, just give it time, at least she's being civil. We still have a few more days to go."

"On a positive note, I've been catching up with Clarke quite a bit today. I really missed her."

"She seems good."

At that, Bellamy gives me a light tap on the shoulder, "okay well, I won't keep you any longer, go get that lady-cave taken care of," he smirks. 

"Ewww, you're so gross, Bellamosourus. There are proper names for these things." I begin to walk away. 

"Fine, the coin-purse," he laughs deep. 

I don't even deign turning around and properly answering, I just simply give him a beautifully hand crafted bird as I saunter away; mom'd be so proud. 

 

"Hey," Clarke whispers softly as I enter the dimly lit, small tent. 

Wow, it's really small. 

"Hey," I parrot back, looking up this time to get a good look at her, and will I ever stop being so thirsty around her? Probably not. 

Clarke is laying on her back on top of the stretched out sleeping bags, wearing a white tank-top, and the most sinful underwear imaginable. I mean, it's really a simple, solid colored red cotton, hip-hugger. But fuck, it looks amazing on her and my mind is doing the thing and going places. 

I swallow thickly once, twice. 

Clarke bites her bottom lip invitingly. 

Fuck. 

I quickly flit my eyes back down and awkwardly make my way into the tiny tent. I turn around to zip it up, sitting on my heals, and I lose my balance once I'm done zipping it up and fall backwards ungracefully. 

I land hard on something soft and solid and hear a loud but muffled 'humph!'

I quickly roll off Clarke (because there's no room to do more than that; why did I agree to this?). 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," I try to apologize to a squirming Clarke, bent in fetal position, arms crossed over her stomach and struggling to breath. 

"Holy shit, Lexa! You weigh a shit ton! How the fuck even?" She croaks. 

I huff indignantly, "well...I'm a growing girl and growing girls have to eat..."

"Growing girl, my ass. How old are you anyway?"

"And I work out...a lot, so it's mostly muscle mass." I continue, suddenly realizing I'm being asked a question. "Oh, um thirty." 

"Okay then miss super-fit-old-lady, we should get some sleep." 

"Hey! I'm not that old," I yelp indignantly, because really, hasn't she heard? Thirty is the new twenty. 

"You're four years older than me, so technically, you're an old woman."

I lay on top of the sleeping bag next to her as she turns to turn off our lantern, then she lays back down facing me, our faces only a few inches apart. 

"Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"

Clarke hums, "respect should be earned," her voice dropping slightly as she inches her face closer. 

"Hmm, well respect should be given regardless, just simply because we're all human. It's best to earn respect by giving it, rather than waiting on the other person," I whisper as my eyes drop to her oh-so-inviting lips, and though I know this is meant to be more playful than anything, I totally mean it. 

Clarke tangles her fingers with mine, my hand having been laying between our chest, and inches her face even closer. I can feel her breath on my face, our lips barely brushing together now with every spoken word. 

"Well, look at you miss upstanding citizen," she smiles widely, and there's this twinkle in her eye that makes my stomach swoop. 

I close the gap and our lips meet in a slow, languid kiss, savoring every passing second. Clarke brings her hand up to cup my jaw and deepens the kiss, tangling our limbs and seeking entrance with her tongue, which I gladly grant. The languid pace ends when I feel Clarke flick her tongue against the roof of my mouth and all brain function short circuits. It's all hungry animal instinct from there and will I ever stop being so hungry for her? 

The pot brownies finally hit full force. 

Time slows down.

Actually, everything slows down; do these guys ever have weed that doesn't make you feel like you're slowly moving through space and time? And I'm not new to this, Pedro-Mark-Ping-Daquan can testify to that. 

I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, my movements heavy and languid, but every touch feels like the fire of a thousand suns burning my skin and sending intense shockwaves to my core. 

Holy shit. 

"Holy shit," Clarke's voice sounds slow and low as she pokes my face with her fingers, and giggles at the indentations they create. "Your face is sooooo pretty." 

I giggle moving my heavy body on top of hers, holding my upper-body up with my arms. From this position I can clearly (no longer slightly fuzzy and blurry) see all the vivid blue in her eyes in 'technicolor,' the specks of grey splashed across her sea of blue, her pupils large and consuming the most of the color, like a black hole devouring everything in its path, and fuck do I want to be devoured by them. "Your eyes are beautiful," I whisper adoringly, or at least I think I'm whispering. 

Am I whispering? I'm totally whispering...right? 

"Yeah, you're totally whispering. Wait. Why are you whispering?" Clarke scrunches her nose and cocks her head in confusion giving me a tempting view of the column of her neck and it just looks so deliciously inviting. 

So I take a small bite and sooth with my tongue, Clarke giggles at the sensation. And fuck she smells delicious...like smokey hotdogs. 

"I do not smell like smoked hotdogs," and I can hear the pout in her voice. 

Wait, am I saying these things out loud? 

"Yeah, you totally are," Clarke giggles and that throws us both into a fit of giggles. 

"Shhh, no laugh," I giggle as I lightly cover Clarke's mouth with a hand, because her giggles are getting louder and I don't want to wake anyone, but my hand is not very effective, so I opt for kissing her instead. And though I intended to simply shush her with a simple kiss, I kiss her a sloppy and dirty kiss which has Clarke moaning sinfully, and my hand sets off exploring, trying to find what else can bring another one of those beautiful sounds tumbling from her lips. 

I move my hand under her shirt, pushing it up until I reach a nipple and I run a thumb over, causing it to perk. I move away from the kiss to have a peak at the Kents (or Kent) and god it just looks so inviting, so I take the nipple into my mouth, sucking and running my tongue over it, feeling Clarke arch into my touch, letting another moan slip past her lips; my hand now making its way south. 

Clarke suddenly sits up and pulls off her shirt, completely setting the Kents free. And I feel like I'm having a religious experience: the heavens parting and shining light onto the glorious bosoms, sculpted directly by god's hand; Händel's Hallelujah chorus sung by seraphim descending from the heavens. I can't help but stare in silent worship. 

I've never considered myself a sinner, but god do I want to do sinful things to them. 

Clarke pokes one and it jiggles. 

My jaw goes slack, my eyes grow glassy and my mouth waters as my head follows along the motion. 

Clarke giggles. 

"C'mere champ," comes Clarke's soft voice as she helps me out of my own shirt, and I'd been so entranced that I hadn't even noticed when she'd reached for it. 

"You can also stop singing hallelujah," she giggles and I blush closing my mouth.

Once having helped me pull my shirt over my head, she cups my neck and brings our lips crashing back together, pulls us both down onto the sleeping bags, and I know it must've hurt some, judging by the thud of her back against the ground and the 'humph' sound she released into my mouth, and I swallow every bit of it. The delicious press of our naked breasts sending shivers down my spine, my whole body reacting accordingly. 

I break the kiss to drag kisses down her jaws and nip and lick at her neck, making my way down her body, stoping to pay much deserved attention to her breast. And then continuing my path south. 

I dip my tongue into her belly-button and that has her squirming. I then nip at the jut of a hip-bone dragging my tongue to the other to repeat the same process. I then hook my fingers on the edges of her underwear and lift my head up, locking my eyes on Clarke's as she holds herself up on her elbows, and I kiss just above the line of her underwear asking for permission. 

She nods once and I slowly drag her underwear off her smooth legs, then begin placing kisses on the insides of her thighs dragging my lips, reveling in the way her body reacts to my touch. 

"Yours off too," she pleads and I stop and clumsily drag my shorts and underwear off in one motion. 

Clarke giggles at my clumsiness once more. 

I raise an eyebrow at her as I place myself between her legs and stop short of her pussy and the sight of her swollen wet lips, and the smell of her arousal has my mouth watering, my pussy clenching against nothing, and my mind goes dizzy (or dizzier). 

I drag my tongue through her folds and I moan, feeling myself instantly addicted to her tangy taste. Clarke moans and flops back on the ground at the feeling. I drag my tongue through her a few times experimentally, dragging it up to her clit on occasions and slightly dipping into her entrance at others, trying to learn what she likes. I draw small circles around her clit with my tongue, not quite putting pressure directly on it, teasing. I suck her clit into my mouth then flick my tongue over it, and she moans. 

She grabs on to my shoulders pulling me back up and bringing our lips back into a deep, desperate kiss. She gasps at the taste of herself on my tongue. 

I feel one of her hands squeeze one of my breasts and then lightly pinch it, my body immediately reacting to the touch. The other hand trailing down between our bodies and I suddenly feel one of her fingers drag through my folds and I shudder. She repeats the motion and begins to move her finger around my clit, testing pressure. I lift my head, separating from her lips, having now lost my rhythm. And she takes advantage of that, dragging her tongue down my throat, then nipping at my collarbone as her finger previously drawing circles around my clit slips deep inside my entrance. My eyes fall tightly shut and I can feel her eyes on my face, searching, admiring, I don't know and I can't actually process any thought at this moment.

"Hey, look at me beautiful," Clarke gently coaxes and my eyes flutter open, my green meeting her cerulean stealing my breath away. 

"How are you so beautiful," she whispers in adoration as she slips a second finger into me, and my breath hitches. 

"Oh, fuck," falls from my lips and my hips begin moving out of their own volition, meeting her every thrust. 

I suddenly regain control of my senses and without wasting time, I quickly move a hand down between us and slip two fingers inside of Clarke, she throws her head back and moans, and I can now feel just how wet she is and that sends a jolt of arousal to my core, and my pussy clenches. "Fuck, you're so wet," I pant in her ear. 

"Hmmm," she moans once more. 

For a few moments all that can be heard throughout the tent are our pants and the wet sounds from our moving our fingers in and out of each other, interspersed with the occasional moan and the 'fucks, and 'shits' and 'oh, gods.' 

I can feel myself slick with sweat, both from the desert heat and the sex, sweat dripping down my forehead and back. It feels like a sauna in here. But I can't stop, I feel the muscles on my lower abdomen begin to tighten and I know I'm close, and judging by the tightening of Clarke's walls, I can tell that so is she. So I bring our mouths together once more, delving my tongue into hers in a sloppy and messy kiss as I add a third finger into Clarke and pick up my pace, my forearm beginning to cramp. 

I curl my fingers with each pump and bring my thumb up to swipe at Clarke's clit once, twice, three times before her walls are clenching rhythmically around my fingers, barely giving them any room to move, her body arches and grows rigid, her head thrown back and her jaw goes slack and her release comes in a series of chocked raspy sounds. And just the sight and feeling of her coming has me following right on her heels, constellations crashing and splattering against the canvas of the insides of my closed eyelids, my moan getting caught in the back of my throat, I burry my head on her shoulder and I may just be drifting into outer space. 

I feel Clarke's fingers weaving through my hair, lightly scratching at my scalp further relaxing my body as I come down from my high. 

"You good there?"

"Hmm," all I can do is hum, my body too relaxed for anything else.

She kisses the top of my head, "because you're kinda heavy."

I pout and further bury my face into the crook of her neck. 

"No, seriously, Lex," she laughs softly, "you're heavy and it's way too hot," she pokes my side. 

"No," I slur sleepily, the world around us beginning to haze. 

"Haha, fine," she kisses the top of my head once more and wraps an arm around my waist. "Sleep beautiful."

That's the last thing I hear as the conscious world disappears from my senses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is that.  
> Decided to end it nicely rather than the planed cliff hanger.  
> yay!


End file.
